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THE 



CRAYON PAPERS. 



BY 



WASHINGTON IRVING 



NEW YORK : 

WORTHINGTON CO, 
747 Broadway. 



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JUK 12 1944 
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PRINTING AND COOKBIND-'NG COMPANt 
NEW YORK. 



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THE CRAYON PAPERS. 



BY 



GEOFFEEY OEATON, GEJSTT. 



MOUNT JOY: 

OR SOME PASSAGES OUT OF THE LIFE OF A CASTLE-BUILDER. 

I WAS bom among romantic scenery, in one of the wOcIesi 
parts of the Hudson, which at that time was not so thickly- 
settled as at present. My father was descended from one of the 
old Huguenot famihes, that came over to this cou-ntry on the 
revocation of the edict of Nantz. He hved in a style of easy, 
iiiral indepenaence, on a patrimonial estate that had been for 
two or three generations in the family. He was an indolent, 
good-natured man, who took the world as it went, and had a 
kind of laughing philosophy, that parried all rubs and mis- 
haps, and served him in the place of wisdom. This was the 
part of his character least to my taste ; for I was of an enthusi- 
astic, excitable temperament, prone to kindle up with new 
schemes and projects, and he was apt to dash my sallying 
enthusiasm by some unlucky joke ; so that whenever I was in 
a glow with any sudden excitement, I stood in mortal dread of 
his good-humor. 

Yet he indulged me in every vagary ; for I was an only son, 
and of course a personage of importance in the household. I 
had two sisters older than myself, and one younger. The 
former were educated at New York, under the eye of a 
maiden aunt; the latter remained at home, and was my 
cherished playmate, the companion of my thoughts. We 
were tv/o imaginative little beings, of quick susceptibility, 
and prone to see wonders and mj'-steries in evervthing around 
us. Scarce had we learned to read, when our mother made 
us holiday presents of all the nursery literature u£ the day; 



6 THE CRAYON PAPERS 

which at that tune consisted of little books covered with gilt 
paper, adorned with "cuts," and filled with tales of fairies, 
giants, and enchanters. What draughts of delightful fiction 
did we then inhale ! My sister Sophy was of a soft and ten- 
der nature. She would weep over the woes of the Children 
in the Wood, or quake at the dark romance of Bluo-Beard, 
and the terrible mysteries of the blue chamber. But I was 
all for enterprise and adventure. I burned to emulate the 
deeds of that heroic prince who delivered the white cat from 
her enchantment ; or he of no less royal blood, and doughty 
enterprise, who broke the charmed sliunber of the Beauty in 
the Wood ! 

The house in wliich we Uved was just the kind of place to 
foster such propensities. It was a venerable mansion, half 
villa, half farmhouse. The oldest part was of stone, with 
loop-holes for musketry, having served as a family fortress 
m the time of the Indians. To this there had been made vari- 
ous additions, some of brick, some of wood, according to the 
exigencies of the moment; so that it was full of nooks and 
crooks, and chambers of aU sorts and sizes. It was buried 
among willows, ehns, and cherry trees, and sui-rounded with 
roses and hollyhocks, with honeysuckle and sweet-brier 
clambering about every window. A brood of hereditary 
pigeons sunned themselves upon the roof; hereditary swal- 
lows and martins built about the eaves and chimneys; and 
hereditary bees htunmed about the flower-beds. 

Under the influence of our story-books every object aroimd 
us now assumed a new character, and a charmed interest. 
The wild flowers were no longer the mere ornaments of tlie 
fields, or the resorts of the toilful bee ; they were the lurking 
places of fairies. We would watch the hunnning-bird, as it 
hovered around the trumpet creeper at our porch, and the 
butterfly as it flitted up into the blue air, above the sunny 
tree tops, and fancy them some of the tiny beings from faii-y 
land I would call to mind all that I had read of Robin Good- 
fellow and his power of transformation. Oh how I envied him 
that power ! How I longed to be able to compress my form 
into utter littleness ; to ride the bold dragon-fly ; swing on the 
tall bearded grass ; follow the ant into his subterraneous habi- 
tation, or dive into the cavernous depths of the honeysuckle ! 

While I was yet a mere cliild I was sent to a daily school, 
about two miles distant. The school-house was on the edge of 
a wood, close by a brook overhung with bu'ches, alders, and 



MOUNTJOT. 7 

dwarf willows. We of the school who lived at some distance 
came with our dinners put up in little baskets. In the in- 
tervals of school hours ws would gather round a spring, 
under a tuft of hazel-bushes, and have a kind of picnic; 
interchanging the rustic dainties with which our provident 
mothers had fitted us out. Then when our joyous repast was 
over, and my companions were disposed for play, I would 
draw forth one of my cherished story-books, stretch myself 
on the greensward, and soon lose myself in its bewitching 
contents. 

I became an oracle among my schoolmates on account of my 
superior erudition, and soon imparted to them the contagion 
of my infected fancy. Often in the evening, after school 
hours, we woidd sit on the trrmk of some fallen tree in the 
woods, and vie with each other in telling extravagant stories, 
until the whip-poor-will began his nightly moaning, and tho 
fire-flies sparkled in the gloom. Then came the periloiis jour- 
ney homeward. What delight we woidd take in getting up 
wanton panics in some dusky part of the wood; scampering 
like frightened deer; paiising to take breath; renewing tho 
panic, and scampering off again, wild with fictitious terror ! 

Oiu* greatest trial was to pass a dai'k, lonely pool, covered 
■with pond-lilies, peopled with buU-frogs and water snakes, and 
haimted by two white cranes. Oh ! the terrors of that pond ! 
How our little hearts would beat as we approached it ; what 
fearful glances we would throw aromid ! And if by chance a 
plash of a wild duck, or the guttural twang of a bull-frog, 
struck our ears, as we stole quietly by— away we sped, nor 
paused tmtil completely out of the woods. Then, when I 
reached home what a world of adventures and imagiuary 
terrors woidd I have to relate to my sister Sophy ! 

As I advanced in years, this turn of mind increased upon 
me, and became more confirmed. I abandoned myself to the 
impulses of a romantic imagination, which controlled my 
studies, and gave a bias to all my habits. My father observed 
me continually with a book in my hand, and satisfied himself 
that I was a profound student; but what were my studies? 
Works of fiction; tales of chivalry; voyages of discovery; 
travels in the East ; everything, in short, that partook of adven- 
ture and romance. I well remember with what zest I entered 
upon that part of my studies which treated of the heathen 
mythology, and particularly of the sylvan deities. Then in- 
deed my school books became dear to me. The neighborhood 



8 THE CRAYON rAVERS. 

was well calcxilated to foster the reveries ot a mind like mine. 
It abounded with solitary retreats, wild streams, solemn for- 
ests, and silent valleys. I would ramble about f oi' a whole day 
with a volume of Ovid's Metamoi'phoses in my pocket, and 
work myself into a kind of self-delusion, go as to identify the 
surrounding scenes with those of which I had just been read- 
ing. I would loiter about a brook that glided through the 
shadowy depths of the forest, picturing it to myself the haunt 
of Naiadd. I would steal round some bushy copse that opened 
upon a glade, as if I expected to come suddenly upon Diana 
and her nymphs, or to behold Pan and his satyrs bounding, 
with whoop and halloo, through the woodland. I would thi'ow 
myself, during the panting heats of a summer noon, under the 
shade of some wide-spreading tree, and muse and dream away 
the hours, m a state of mental intoxication. I drank in the 
very light of day, as nectar, and my soul seemed to bathe with 
ecstasy in the deep blue of a smnmer sky. 

In these wanderings, nothing occurred to jar my feelings, av 
bring me back to the realities of life. There is a repose in our 
mighty forests that gives fidl scope to the imagination. Now 
and then I would hear the distant sound of the wood-cutter's 
axe, or the crash of some tree which he had laid low ; but these 
noises, echoing along the quiet landscape, could easily be 
wrought by fancy into harmony with its illusions. In general, 
however, the woody recesses of the neighborhood were pecu- 
liarly wild and unfrequented. I could ramble for a whole 
day, without coming upon any traces of cultivation. The 
partridge of the wood scarcely seemed to shun my path, and 
the squirrel, from his nut-tree, would gaze at me for an 
instant, with sparkling eye, as if wondering at the unwonted 
intrusion. 

I cannot help dwelling on this delicious period of my life ; 
when as yet I had known no sorrow, nor experienced any 
worldly care. I have since studied much, both of books and 
men, and of course have grown too wise to be so easily pleased ; 
yet with all my wisdom, I must confess I look back with a 
secret feeling of regret to the days of happy ignorance, before 
I had begun to be a philosopher. 



It must be evident that I was in a hopeful training for one 
who was to descend into the arena of life, and wrestle "with the 
world. The tutor, also, who superintended my studies in the 



MOUNT J 07. 9 

more advanced stage of my education was just fitted to com- 
plete the fata morgana which was forming in my mind. His 
name was Glencoe. He was a pale, melancholy-looking man, 
about forty years of age ; a native of Scotland, hberally edu- 
cated, and who had devoted himself to the instruction of youth 
from taste rather than necessity ; for, as he said, ho loved the 
human heart, a,nd delighted to study it in its earlier impulses. 
My two elder sisters, having returned home from a city board- 
ing-school, were hkewise placed imder his care, to direct their 
reading in history and belle-lettres. 

We all soon became attached to Glencoe. It is true, we were 
at first somewhat prepossessed against him. His meagre, pal- 
lid countenance, his broad pronunciation, his inattention to 
the httle forms of society, and an awkward and embarrassed 
manner, on first acquaintance, were much against him; but 
we soon discovered that under this unpromising exterior existed 
the kindest urbanity of temper ; the warmest sympatliies ; the 
most enthusiastic benevolence. His mind was ingenious and 
acute His reading had been various, but more abstinise than 
profound ; his memory was stored, on all subjects, with facts, 
theories, and quotations, and crowded with crude materials for 
thinking. These, in a moment of excitement, would be, as it 
were, melted down, and poured forth in the lava of a heated 
imagination. At such moments, the change in the whole man 
was wonderful. His meagre form would acquire a dignity and 
grace ; his long, pale visage would flash with a hectic glow ; his 
eyes would beam with intense speculation ; and there would be 
pathetic tones and deep modulations in his voice, that dehghted 
the ear, and spoke movingly to the heart. 

But what most endeared him to us was the kindness and 
sympathy with which he entered into all our interests and 
wishes. Instead of curbing and checking oui* young imagina- 
tions with the reins of sober reason, he was a little too apt to 
catch the impidse and be hurried av/ay with us. He could not 
%vithstand the excitement of any sally of feeling or fancy, and 
was prone to lend heightening tints to the illusive coloring of 
youthful anticipations. 

Under his guidance my sisters and myself soon entered upon 
a more extended range of studies ; but while they wandered, 
with delighted minds, through the wide field of historj^ and 
belles-lettres, a nobler walk was opened to my superior intel- 
lect. . 

The mind of Glencoe presented a singular mixture of phi' 



10 THE CRATON PAPERS. 

losophy and poetry. He was fond of metaphysics and prone 
to indulge in abstract speculations, though his metaphysics 
were somewhat fine spun and fanciful, and his speculations 
were apt to partake of what my father most irreverently 
termed "hvunbug." For my part, I delighted in them, and 
the more especially because they set my father to sleep and 
completely confounded my sisters. I entered with my accus- 
tomed eagerness into this new branch of study. Metaphysics 
were now my passion. My sisters attempted to accompany 
me, but they soon faltered, and gave out before they had got 
half way through Smith's Theory of the Moral Sentiments. I, 
however, wont on, exulting in my strength. Glencoe supplied 
me with books, and I devoured them with appetite, if not diges- 
tion. We walked and talked together under the trees before 
the house, or sat apart, Uke Milton's angels, and held high con- 
verse upon themes beyond the grasp of ordinary intellects. 
Glencoe possessed a kind of philosophic chivalry, in imitation 
of the old peripatetic sages, and was continually dreaming of 
romantic enterprises in morals, and splendid systems for the 
improvement of society. He had a fanciful mode of illustrat- 
ing abstract subjects, peculiarly to my taste; clothing them 
'»vith the language of poetry, and throwing round them almost 
the magic hues of fiction. " How charming, " thought T, "is 
divine philosophy ;" not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools sup- 
pose, 

" But a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, 
Where no crude surfeit reigus." 

I felt a wonderf id self-complacency at being on such excel- 
lent terms with a man whom I considered on a parallel with 
the sages of antiquity, and looked down with a sentiment of 
pity on the feebler intellects of my sisters, who could compre- 
hend nothing of metaphysics. It is true, when I attempted to 
study them by myself, I was apt to get in a fog ; but when 
Glencoe came to my aid, everything was soon as clear to me 
as day. My ear drank in the beauty of his words ; my imagi- 
nation was dazzled with the splendor of his illustrations. It 
caught up the sparkling sands of poetry that glittered through 
his speculations, and mistook them for the golden ore of wis- 
dom. Struck with the facihty with wliich I seemed to imbibe 
and relish the most abstract doctrines, I conceived a still higher 
opinion of my mental powers, and was convinced that I also 
was a philosopher. 



MOUNT JOY. 11 

I was now verging toward man's estate, and though my edu- 
cation had been extremely irregular — following the caprices of 
my humor, which I mistook for the impulses of my genius — 
yet I was regarded with wonder and dehght by my mother and 
sisters, who considered me ahnost as wise and infallible as I 
considered myself. This high opinion of me was strengthened 
by a declamatory habit, wliich made me an oracle and orator 
at the domestic board. The time was now at hand, however, 
that was to put my philosophy to the test. 

We had passed through a long winter, and the spring at 
length opened upon us with unusual sweetness. The soft 
serenity of the weather ; the beauty of the surrounding coun- 
try ; the joyous notes of the birds ; the balmy breath of flower 
and blossom, all combined to fill my bosom with indistinct sen- 
sations, and nameless wishes. Amid the soft seductions of the 
season, I lapsed into a state of utter indolence, both of body 
and mind. 

Philosophy had lost its charms for me._ Metaphysics— faugh I 
I tried to study ; took down volume after volume, ran my eye 
vacantly over a few pages, and thi-ew them by with distaste. 
I loitered about the house, with my hands in my pockets, and 
an air of complete vacancy. Something was necessary to make 
me hai^py; but what was that something? I saimtered to the 
apartments of my sisters, hoping their conversation might 
amuse me. They had walked out, and the room was vacant. 
On the table lay a volume which they had been reading. It 
was a novel. I had never read a novel, having conceived a 
contempt for works of the kind, from hearing them universally 
condemned. It is true, I had remarked that they were as mii- 
versaUy read ; but I considered them beneath the attention of 
a philosopher, and never would venture to read them, lest I 
should lessen my mental superiority in the eyes of my sisters. 
Nay, I had taken up a work of the kind now and then, when I 
knew my sisters were observing me, looked into it for a mo- 
ment, and then laid it down, with a shght supercihous smile. 
On the present occasion, out of mere lisfclessness, I took up the 
volmne and turned over a few of the first pages. I thought I 
heard some one coming, and laid it down. I was mistaken ; no 
one was near, and what I had read, tempted my curiosity to 
read a httle further. I leaned against a window-frame, and in 
a few minutes was completely lost in the story. How long I 
stood there reading I know not, but I believe for nearly two 
hours. Suddenly I heard my sisters on the staia'S, when I 



12 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

thrust the book into my bosom, and the two other volumes 
which lay near into my pockets, and hurried out of the house 
to my beloved woods. Here I remained all day beneath the 
trees, bewildered, bewitched, devouring the contents of these 
delicious voliunes, and only retxu-ned to the house when it was 
too dark to peruse their pages. 

This novel finished, I replaced it in my sisters' apartment, 
and looked for others. Their stock was ample, for they had 
brought home all that were current in the city ; but my appe- 
tite demanded an imanense supply. All this course of reading 
was carried on clandestinely, for I was a little ashamed of it, 
and fearful that my wisdom might be called in question ; but 
this very privacy gave it additional zest. It was " bread eaten 
in secret;" it had the charm of a private amour. 

But flunk what must have been the effect of such a course of 
reading on a youth of my temperament and turn of mind; in- 
didged, too, amid romantic scenery and in the romantic season 
of the year. It seemed as if I had entered upon a new scene 
of existence. A train of combustible feehngs were lighted up 
in me, and my soul was all tenderness and passion. Never 
was youth more completely love-sick, though as yet it was a 
mere general sentiment, and wanted a definite object. Unfor- 
tunately, our neighborhood was particularly deficient in female 
society, and I languished in vain for some divinity to whom I 
might offer up this most uneasy burden of affections. I was at 
one time seriously enamored of a lady whom I saw occasion- 
ally in my rides, reading at the window of a country-seat ; and 
actually serenaded her mth my flute ; Avhen, to my confusion, 
I discovered that she was old enough to be my mother. It was 
a sad damper to my romance ; especially as my father heard 
of it, and made it the subject of one of those household jokes 
which he was apt to serve up at every meal-time. 

I soon recovered from this check, however, but it was only 
to relapse into a state of amorous excitement. I passed whole 
days in the fields, and along the brooks ; for there is something 
in the tender passion that makes us alive to the beauties of 
nature. A soft sunshiny morning infused a sort of rapture 
into my breast. I flung open my arms, hke the Grecian youth 
in Ovid, as if I would take in and embrace the balmy atmos- 
phere.* The song of the birds melted me to tendei'ness. I 
would lie by the side of some rivulet for hours, and form gar- 

* Ovid's " MetamorDhoses." Book vil 



MOUNT.TOY. 13 

lands of the flowei*s on its banks, and niuee on ideal beauties, 
and sigh from the crowd of undefined emotions that swelled 
my bosom. 

In this state of amorous delirium, I was strolling one morn- 
ing along a beautiful wild brook, which I had discovered m a 
glen. There was one place where a small waterfall, leaping 
from among rocks into a natural basin, made a scene such as a 
poet might have chosen as the haunt of some shy Naiad. It 
was here I usually retired to banquet on my novels. In visiting: 
the place this morning I traced distinctly, on the margin of tho 
basin, which was of fine clear sand, the prints of a female foot 
of the most slender and dehcate proportions. This was suffi- 
cient for an imagination hke mine. Eobitison Citisoe himself, 
when he discovered the print of a savage foot on the beach of 
liis lonely island, could not have been more suddenly assailed 
with thick-coming fancies. 

I endeavored to track the steps, but they only passed for a 
few paces along the fine sand, and then were lost among the 
herbage. I remained gazing in reverie upon this passing trace 
of lovelinees. It evidently was not made by any of my sisters, 
for they knew nothing of this haunt; beside, the foot was 
smaller than theirs; it was remarkable for its beautifiil deli- 
cacy. 

My eye accidentally caught two or three half -withered wild 
flowers lying on the ground. The unknown nymph had 
doubtless dropped them from her bosom I Hero was a new 
dociunent of taste and sentiment. I treasured them up as 
invaluable rehcs. The place, too, where I found them, was 
remarkably picturesque, and the most beautiful part of the 
brook. It was overhung with a fine elm, entwined vv^th grape- 
vines. She who could select such a spot, who could dehght in 
wild brooks, and wild flowers, and silent solitudes, must ha.ve 
fancy, and f eehng, and tenderness ; and with all these qualities, 
she must be beautiful ! 

But who could be this Unknown, that had thus passed by, as 
in a morning dream, leaving merely flowers and fairy footsteps 
to tell of her lovehiiess? There was a mystery in it that be- 
wildered me. It was so vague and disembodied, hke those 
"airy tongues that syllable men's names" in solitude. Every 
attempt to solve the mystery was vain. I could hear of no 
being in the neighborhood to whomi tliis trace coukl be 
ascribed. I haunted the spot, and became daily more and 
more enamored. Never, surely, was passion more pure and 



14 THE CRATON PAPERS. 

spiritual, and never lover in more dubious situation. My case 
could be compared only to that of the amorous prince in the 
fairy tale of Cinderella ; but he had a glass shpper on which to 
lavish his tenderness. I, alas ! was in love with a footstep ! 
The imagination is alternately a cheat and a dupe; nay, 



more, it is the most subtle of cheats, for it cheats itseK and 
becomes the dupe of its own delusions. It conjures up ' ' airy 
nothings," gives to them a "local habitation and a name," and 
then bows to their control as implicitly as though they were 
reahties. Such was now my case. The good Numa could not 
more thoroughly have persuaded himself that the nymph 
Egeria hovered about her sacred fountain and communed with 
him in spirit, than I had deceived myself into a kind of vision- 
ary intercourse with the airy phantom, fabricated in my brain. 
I constructed a rustic seat at the foot of the tree where I had 
discovered the footsteps. I made a kind of bower there, where 
I used to pass my mornings reading poetiy and romances. I 
cai'ved hearts and darts on the tree, and hung it with garlands. 
My heart was full to overflowmg, and wanted some faithful 
bosom into which it might relieve itseK. What is a lover 
without a confidante? I thought at once of my sister Sophy, 
my early playmate, the sister of my affections. She was so 
reasonable, too, and of such correct feehngs, always listening 
to my words as oracular sayings, and admiring my scraps of 
poetry as the very inspirations of the muse. From such a de- 
voted, such a rational being, what secrets coiild I have? 

I accordingly took her one morning to my favorite retreat. 
She looked around, with delighted surprise, upon the rustic 
seat, the bower, the tree carved with emblems of the tender 
passion. She turned her eyes upon me to inquire the meaning. 

"Oh, Sophy," exclaimed I, clasping both her hands in mine, 
and looking earnestly in her face, " I am in love." 

She started with surprise. 

"Sit down," said I, "and I wiU tell you all." 

She seated herself upon the rustic bench, and I went into a 
full history of the footstep, with aU the associations of idea 
that had been conjured up by my imagination, 

Sophy was enchanted ; it was like a fairy tale ; she had read 
of such mysterious visitations in books, and the loves thus con- 
ceived were always for beings of superior order, and were 
always happy. She caught the illusion in aU its force; her 
cheek glowed ; her eye brightened. _ ,-' -^ 



MOUiM'JOY. 15 

" I dare say she's pretty," said Sophy. 

"Pretty!" echoed I, " she is beautiful !" I went through all 
the reasoning by which I had logically proved the fact to my 
own satisfaction. I dwelt upon the evidences of her taste, her 
sensibility to the beauties of nature ; her soft meditative habit, 
that dehghted in sohtude. "Oh," said I, clasping my hands, 
"to have such a companion to wander through these scenes; 
to sit with her by this murmuring stream ; to wreathe garlands 
round her brows ; to hear the music of her voice mingling with 
the whisperings of these groves ; to — " 

"DeHghtful! deUghtful !" cried Sophy; "what a sweet crea- 
ture she must be ! She is just the friend I want. How I shall 
dote upon her ! Oh, my dear brother ! you must not keep her 
all to yourself. You must let me have some share of her !" 

I caught her to my bosom: " You shall — you shall!" cried I, 
" my dear Sophy; we wiU aU hve for each«other!" 



The conversation with Sophy heightened the illusions of my 
mind ; and the jnanner in which she had treated my day- 
dream identified it with facts and persons and gave it still 
more the stamp of reahty. I walked about as one in a trance, 
heedless of the world around, and lapped in an elysium of the 
fancy. 

In this mood I met one morning with Glencoe. He accosted 
me with his usual smile, and was proceeding with some gene- 
ral observations, but paused and fixed on me an inquiiiag eye. 

"What is the matter with you?" said he, "you seem agi- 
tated; has anything in particular happened?" 

"Nothing," said I, hesitating; " at least nothing worth com- 
inunicating to you." 

"Nay, my dear young friend," said he, "whatever is of 
sufficient importance to agitate you is worthy of being com- 
raimicated to me." 

"Well; but my thoughts are running on what you would 
think a frivolous subject." 

"No subject is frivolous that has the power to awaken 
strong feelings." 

"What think you," said I, hesitating, "what think you of 
love?" 

Glencoe almost started at the question. ' ' Do you call that 
a frivolous subject?" replied he. "Believe me, there is none 
fraught with such deep, such vital interest. If you talk. 



16 TUE CRAYON PAPERS. 

indeed, of the capricious inclination awakened Ly the mere 
charm of perishable beauty, I grant it to be idle in the ex- 
treme; but that love which springs from the concordant 
sympathies of virtuous hearts; that love wliich is awakened 
by the perception of moral excellence, and fed by meditation 
on inteUectual as well as personal beauty; that is a passion 
which refines and ennobles the human heart. Oh, where is 
there a sight moi'e nearly approaching to the intercourse of 
angels, than that of two young beings, free from the sins 
and foUies of the world, mingling pure thoughts, and looks, 
and feelings, and becoming as it were soul of one soul and 
heart of one heart! How exquisite the silent converse that 
they hold ; the soft devotion of the eye, that needs no words 
to make it eloquent! Yes, my friend, if there be anythmg 
in this weary world worthy of heaven, it is the pure bliss of 
such a mutual affection !" 

The words of my worthy tutor overcame all farther re- 
servo, "Mr. Glencoe," cried I, blushing still deeper, "I am 
in love." 

"And is that what you were ashamed to teU me? Oh, 
never seek to conceal from your friend so important a secret. 
If your passion be unworthy, it is for the steady hand of 
friendship to pluck it forth ; if honorable, none but an enemy 
would seek to stifle it. On nothing does the character and 
happiness so much depend as on the first affection of the 
heart. Were you caught by some fleeting and superficial 
charm — a bright eye, a blooming cheek, a soft voice, or a 
voluptuous form— I would warn you to beware ; I would tell 
you that beauty is but a passing gleam of the morning, a 
perishable flower; that accident may becloud and bhght it, 
and that at best it must soon pass away. But were you in 
love with such a one as I could describe ; young in years, but 
still younger in feelings ; lovely in person, but as a type of the 
mind's beauty ; soft in voice, in token of gentleness of spirit ; 
blooming in countenance, like the rosy tints of morning kind- 
ling with the promise of a genial day ; and eye beaming with 
the benignity of a happy heart ; a cheerful temper, ahve to all 
kind impulses, and frankly diffusing its own felicity ; a self- 
poised mind, that needs not lean on others for support ; an ele- 
gant taste, that can embellish solitude, and furnish out its own 
enjoyments — " 

"My dear sir," cried I, for I could contain myself no longer, 
" you have described the very person !" 



MOUJ^TJOT. 17 

*' Why, then, my dear young friend," said he, affectionately 
pressing my hand, " in God's name, love on!" 

For the remainder of the day I was in some such state of 
dreamy beatitude as a Turk is said to enjoy when under the 
influence of opium. It must be already manifest how prone I 
was to bewilder myself with picturings of the fancy, so as to 
confound them with existing realities. In the present instance, 
Sophy and Glencoe had contributed to promote the transient 
delusion. Sophy, dear gii-1, had as usual joined with me in 
my castle-building, and indulged in the same train of imagin- 
ings, while Glencoe, duped by my enthusiasm, firmly behoved 
that I spoke of a being I had seen and known. By their sym- 
pathy with my feehngs they ia a manner became associated 
with the Unknown in my mind, and thus linked her with the 
cii'cle of my intimacy. 

In the evening, our family party was assembled in the hall, 
to enjoy the refreshing breeze. Sophy was playing some 
favorite Scotch airs on the piano, while Glencoe, seated apart, 
with his forehead resting on his hand, was buried in one of 
those pensive reveries that made him so interesting to me. 

"What a fortunate being I am!" thought I, "blessed with 
such a sister and such a friend ! I have only to find out this 
amiable Unknown, to wed her, and be happy ! What a para- 
dise v/ill be my home, graced with a partner of such exquisite 
refinement! It will be a perfect fairy bower, buried among 
sweets and roses. Sophy shall live with us, and be the com- 
panion of aU our enjoyment. Glencoe, too, shall no more be 
the sohtary being that he now appears. He shall have & 
home -wdth us. He shall have his study, where, when h?» 
pleases, he may shut himself up from the world, and biu-y him- 
self in his own reflections. His retreat shall be sacred; no 
one shall intrude there; no one but myself, who wiU visit 
him now and then, in his seclusion, where we wiU devise 
grand schemes together for the improvement of mankind. 
IIow dehghtf uUy our days wiU pass, in a round of rational 
pleasures and elegant employments ! Sometimes we will have 
music ; sometimes we will read ; sometimes we will wander 
through the flower garden, when I wiU smile with complacency 
on every flower my wife has planted ; while in the long winter 
evenings the ladies aviU sit at their work, and listen with 
hushed attention to Glencoe and myself, as we discuss the 
abstruse doctrines of metanhvsics." 



18 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

From this delectable revei-ie, I was startled by my father's 
slapping me on the shoulder: " What possesses the lad?" cried 
he ; ' ' here have I been speaking to you half a dozen times, 
without receiving an answer." 

"Pardon me, sir," repUed I; "I was so completely lost in 
thought, that I did not hear you." 

"Lost in thought! And pray what were you thinking of? 
Some of your philosophy, I suppose." 

"Upon my word," said my sister Charlotte, with an arch 
laugh, "I suspect Harry's in love again." 

"And if I were m love, Charlotte," said I, somewhat net- 
tled, and recollecting Glencoe's enthusiastic eulogy of the pas- 
sion, "if I were in love, is that a matter of jest and laughters 
Is the tenderest and most fervid affection that can animate 
the human breast, to be made a matter of cold-hearted ridi- 
cule?" 

My sister colored. " Certainly not, brother !— nor did I mean 
to make it so, or to say anything that should wound your feel- 
ings. Had I really suspected you had formed some genuine 
attachment, it would have been sacred in my eyes; but — ^but," 
said she, smiling, as if at some whimsical recollection, ' ' I 
thought that you — you might be indulging in another httle 
freak of the imagination." 

" I'U wager any money," cried my father, " he has fallen in 
love again with some old lady at a window !" 

" Oh no !" cried my dear sister Sophy, with the most gracious 
warmth; "she is young and beautiful." 

"From what I understand," said Glencoe, rousing himself, j 
"she must be lovely in mind as in person." 

I found my friends were getting me into a fine scrape. I 
began to perspire at every pore, and felt my ears tingle. 

"Well, but," cried my father, "who is she? — what is she? 
Let us hear something about her. " , 

This was no time to explain so delicate a matter. I caught 
up my hat, and vanished out of the house. 

The moment I was in the open air, and alone, my heart up- 
braided me. Was tliis respectful treatment to my father — to 
s^ich a father, too — who had always regarded me as the pride 
of his age — the staff of his hopes ? It is true, he was apt some- 
times to laugh at my enthusiastic flights, and did not treat my <' 
philosophy with due respect ; but when ha,d he ever thwarted j 
a wish of my heart ? Was I then to act with reserve toward 
him, in a matter which might affect the whole current of my 



MOUNT JOY. 19 

future life? "I have done wrong," thought I; "but it is not 
too late to remedy it. I will hasten back and open my whole 
heart to my father!" 

I returned accordingly, and was just on the point of entering 
the house, with my heart full of fihal piety, and a contrite 
speech upon my lips, when I heard a burst of obstreperous 
laughter fi"om my father, and a loud titter from my two elder 
sisters. 

"A footstep!" shouted he, as soon as he could recover him- 
seK; "in love with a footstep ! Why, this beats the old lady at 
the window !" And then there was another appalling burst of 
laughter. Had it been a clap of thunder, it could hardly have 
astounded me more completely. Sophy, in the simphcity of 
her heart, had told all, and had set my father's risible pro- 
pensities in full action. 

Never was poor mortal so thoroughly crestfallen as myself. 
The whole delusion was at an end. I drew off silently from the 
house, shrinking smaller and smaller at every fresh peal of 
laughter; and wandering about until the family had retired, 
stole quietly to my bed. Scarce any sleep, however, visited 
my eyes that night! I lay overwhelmed with mortification, 
and meditating how I might meet the fanxily in the morning. 
The idea of ridicule was always mtolerable to me; but to 
endure it on a subject by which my feelings had been so much 
excited, seemed worse than death. I almost determined, at 
one time, to get up, saddle my horse, and ride off, I knew not 
whither. 

At length I came to a resolution. Before going down to 
breakfast, I sent for Sophy, and employed her as ambassador 
to treat formally in the matter. I insisted that the subject 
should be buried in oblivion ; otherwise I would not show my 
face at table. It was readily agreed to; for not one of the 
family Avould have given me pain for the world. They faith- 
fully kept their promise. Not a word was said of the matter ; 
but there were wry faces, and suppressed titters, that went to 
my soul; and whenever my father looked me in the face, it 
was with such a tragi-comical leer — such an attempt to pull 
down a serious brow upon a whimsical mouth — that I had a 
thousand times rather he had laughed outright. 



For a day or two after the mortifying occun-ence just re- 
lated, I kept as much as possible out of the way of the family. 



20 THE CRA YON PArEBS. 

and wandered about the fields and woods by myself. I was 
sadly out of tune ; my feelings were all jarred and unstrung. 
The birds sang from every grove, but I took no pleasure in 
their melody ; and the flowers of the field bloomed unheeded 
around me. To be crossed in love, is bad enough; but then 
one can fl.y to poetry for relief, and turn one's woes to account 
in soul-subduing stanzas. But to have one's whole passion, 
object and all, anniliilated, dispelled, proved to be such stuff as 
dreams are made of — or, worse than all, to be turned into a 
proverb and a jest — what consolation is there in such a case ? 

I avoided the fatal brook where I had seen the footstep. My 
favorite resort was now the banks of the Hudson, where I sat 
upon the rocks and mused upon the current that dimpled by, 
or the waves that laved the shore; or watched the bright 
mutations of the clouds, and the shifting lights and shadows 
of the distant mountain. By degrees a returning serenity 
stole over my feelings ; and a sigh now and then, gentle and 
easy, and unattended by pain, showed that my heart was re- 
covering its susceptibility. 

As I was sitting in this musing mood my eye became gra- 
dually fixed upon an object that was borne along by the tide. 
It proved to be a little pinnace, beautifully modelled, and 
gayly painted and decorated. It was an unusual sight in this 
neighborhood, which was rather lonely ; indeed, it was rare to 
see any pleasure-barks in this part of the river. As it drew 
nearer, I perceived that there was no one on board ; it had 
apparently drifted from its anchorage. There was not a breath 
of air ; the little bark came floating along on the glassy stream, 
wheeling about with the eddies. At length it ran aground, 
almost at the foot of the rock on which I was seated. I de- 
scended to the margin of the river, and drawing the bark to 
shore, admired its light and elegant proportions and the taste 
with which it was fitted up. The benches were covered with 
cusliions, and its long streamer was of silk. On one of the 
cushions lay a lady's glove, of delicate size and shape, with 
beautifully tapered fingers. I instantly seized it and thrust it 
in my bosom; it seemed a match for the fairy footstep that 
had so fascinated me. 

In a moment aH the romance of my bosom was again in a 
glow. Here was one of the very incider.ts of f aiiy tale ; a bark 
sent by some invisible power, some good genius, or benevolent 
fairy, to waft me to some delectable adventure. I recollected 
something of an enchanted ba^, drawn by white swans, that 



MOUNT JOT. 21 

conveyed a knight down the current of the Rhine, on some 
enterprise connected with love and beauty. The glove, too, 
showed that there was a lady fan* concerned in the present 
adventure. It might be a gauntlet of defiance, to dare me to 
the enterprise. 

In the spirit of romance and the whun of the nxoment, I 
sprang on board, hoisted the hght sail, and pushed from shore. 
As if breathed by some presiding power, a light breeze at that 
moment sprang up, swelled out the sail, and daUied with the 
silken streamer. For a time I ghded along under steep umbra- 
geous banks, or across deep sequestered bays ; and then stood 
out over a wide expansion of the river toward a high rocky 
promontory. It was a lovely evening ; the sun was setting in 
a congregation of clouds that threw the whole heavens in a 
glow, and were reflected in the river. I dehghted myself with 
all kinds of fantastic fancies, as to what enchanted island, or 
mystic bower, or necromantic palace, I was to be conveyed by 
the faiiy bark. 

In the revel of my fancy I had not noticed that the gorgeous 
congregation of clouds which had so much dehghted me was 
in fact a gathering thunder-gust. I perceived the truth too 
late. The clouds came hurrying on, darkening as they 
advanced. The whole face of nature was suddenly changed, 
and assumed that baleful and hvid tint, predictive of a storm. 
I tried to gain the shore, but before I could reach it a blast of 
wind struck the water and lashed it at once into foam. The 
next moment it overtook the boat. Alas ! I was nothing of a 
sailor ; and my protecting fairy forsook me in the moment of 
peril. I endeavored to lower the sail ; but in so doing I had to 
quit the helm ; the bark was overturned in an instant, and I 
was thrown into the water. I endeavored to cling to the 
wreck, but missed my hold; being a poor swimmer, I soon 
found myself sinking, but grasped a hght oar that was floating 
by me. It was not sufiicient for my support; I again sank 
beneath the surface ; there was a rushing and bubbhng sound 
m my ears, and all sense forsook me. 



How long I remained insensible, I know not. I nad a con- 
fused notio.i of being moved and tossed about, and of hearing 
strange beings and strange voices around me ; but all was hke 
a hideous dream. When I at length recovered full conscious- 
ness and perception, I found myself in bed in a spacious cham* 



22 THE CRAYON PAPEllS. 

ber, furnished with more taste than I had been accustomed to. 
The bright rays of a morning sun were intercepted by curtains 
of a dehcate rose color, that gave a soft, volviptucnis tinge to 
every object. Not far from my bed, on a classic tripod, was a 
basket of beautifid exotic flowers, breathing the sweetest fra- 
grance. 

' ' Where am I? How came I here?" 

I tasked my muad to catch at some previous event, from 
which I might trace up the thread of existence to the present 
moment. By degrees I called to mind the fairy pinnace, my 
daring embarkation, my adventurous voyage, and my disas- 
trous shipwreck. Beyond that, all was chaos. How came I 
here? What unknown region had I landed upon? The people 
that inhabited it must be gentle and amiable, and of elegant 
tastes, for they loved downy beds, fragrant flowers, and rose- 
colored curtains. 

While I lay thus musing, the tones of a harp reached my ear. 
Presently they were accompanied by a female voice. It came 
from the room below; but in the profound stillness of my 
chamber not a modidation was lost. My sisters were all con- 
sidered good musicians, and sang very tolerably; but I had 
never heard a voice like this. There was no attempt at diffi- 
cult execution, or striking effect; but there were exquisite 
inflections, and tender turns, which art could not reach. 
Nothing but feeling and sentiment could produce them. It 
was soul breathed forth in sound. I was always alive to the 
influence of music; indeed, I was susceptible of voluptuous 
influences of every kind— sounds, colors, shapes, and fra- 
grant odors. I was the very slave of sensation. 

I lay mute and breathless, and drank in every note of this 
siren strain. It thriUed throiigh my whole frame, and filled 
my soul with melody and love. I pictured to myself, with 
curious logic, the form of the unseen musician. Such melodi- 
ous sounds and exquisite inflections could only be pi'oduced by 
organs of the most delicate flexibility. Such organs do not 
belong to coarse, vulgar forms; they are the harmonious 
residts of fair proportions and admirable symmetry. A being 
so organized must be lovely. 

Again my busy imagination was at work. I called to 
mind the Arabian story of a prince, borne away during sleep 
by a good genius, to the distant abode of a princess of rav- 
ishing beauty. I do not pretend to say that I believed in hav- 
ing experienced a similar transportation ; but it was mv invet- 



MOUNT JOT. 23 

erate habit to cheat myself with fancies of the kind, and to 
give the tinge of illusion to surrounding realities. 

The witching sound had ceased, but its vibrations still played 
round nay heart, and filled it w'th a tumidt of soft emotions. 
At this moment, a self-upbraiding pang shot through my 
bosom. "Ah, recreant!" a voice seemed to exclaim, "is this 
the stabihty of thine affections? What! hast thou so soon for- 
gotten the nymph of the foimtain? Has one song, idly piped 
in thine ear, been sufficient to charm away the cherished ten- 
derness of a whole summer?" 

The wise may smile —but I am in a confiding mood, and must 
confess my weakness. I felt a degree of compunction at this 
sudden infidelity, yet I coidd not resist the power of present 
fascination. My peace of mind was destroyed by conflicting 
claims. The nymph of the fountain came over my memory, 
with all the associations of fairy footsteps, shady groves, soft 
echoes, and wild streamlets; but this new passion was pro- 
duced by a strain of soul-subduing melody, stiU fingering in my 
ear, aided by a downy bed, fragrant flowers, and rose-colored 
curtains. " Unhappy youth !" sighed I to myself, "distracted 
by such rival passions, and the empire of thy heart thus vio- 
lently contested by the sound of a voice, and the print of a 
footstep I" 



I had not remained long in this mood, when I heard the door 
of the room gently opened. I turned my head to see what 
inhabitant of this enchanted palace should appear ; whether 
page in green, hideous dwarf, or haggard fairy. It was my 
own man Scipio. He advanced with cautious step, and was 
delighted, as he said, to find me so much myself again. My 
first questions were as to where I was and how I came there? 
Scipio told me a long story of his having been fishing in a 
canoe at the time of my hare-brained cruise ; of his noticing 
the gathering squall, and my impending danger; of his has- 
tening to join me, but arriving just in time to snatch me from 
a watery grave ; of the great difficulty in restoring me to ani- 
mation ; and of my being subsequently conveyed, in a state of 
insensibility, to this mansion. 

"But where am I?" was the reiterated demand. 

" In the house of Mr. Somerville." 

" Somerville — Somerville !" I recollected to have heard that 
a gentleman of that name had recently taken up his residence 



St THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

at some distance from my father's abode, on the opposite side 
ol the Hudson. He was coiimonly known by the name of 
" French Somerville," from having passed part of his early life 
in France, and from his exhibi "ing traces of French taste in 
his mode of living, and the arrangements of his house. In 
fact, it was in his pleasure-boat, which had got adrift, that I 
had made my fanciful and disastrous cruise. All this was sim- 
ple, straightforward matter of fact, and thi-eatened to demolish 
all the cobweb romance I had been spinning, when fortunately 
I again heard the tinkling of a harp. I raised myself in bed, 
and Ustened. 

"Scipio," said I, with some Kttle hesitation, "I heard some 
one singing just no-s\^. Who was it?" 

" Oh, that was Miss Julia." 

"Julia! Juha! Delightful ! what a name ! And, Scipio — ^is 
she— is she pretty?" 

Scipio griimed from ear to ear. " Except Miss Sophy, she 
was the most beautiful young lady he had ever seen. " 

I should observe, that my sister Sophia was considered by 
all the servants a paragon of perfection. 

Scipio now offered to remove the basket of flowers ; he was 
afraid their odor might be too powerful; but Miss Juha had 
given them that morning to be placed in my room. 

These flowers, then, had been gathered by the fairy fingers 
of my unseen beauty ; that sweet breath which had filled my 
ear with melody had passed over them. I made Scipio hand 
them to me, culled several of the most delicate, and laid them 
on my bosom. 

Mr. Somerville paid me a visit not long afterward. He was 
an interesting study for me, for he was the father of my unseen 
beauty, and probably resembled her. I scanned him closely. 
He was a tall and elegant man, with an open, affable manner, 
and an erect and graceful carriage. His eyes were bluish-gTay, 
and though not dark, yet at times were sparkling and expres- 
sive. His hair was dressed and powdered, and being lightly 
combed up from his forehead, added to the loftiness of his 
aspect. He was fiuent in discourse, but his conversation had 
the quiet tone of pohshed society, without any of those bold 
flights of thought, and picturings of fancy, which I so much 
admired. 

My imagination Avas a little puzzled, at first, to make out of 
this assemblage of personal and mental qualities, a picture that 
should harmonize with my previous idea of the fair unseen. 



mountjoy: 25 

By dint, however, of selecting what it liked, and giving a touch 
here and a touch there, it soon furnished out a satisfactory 
portrait. 

"Julia must be tall," thought I, " and of exquisite grace and 
dignity. She is not quite so courtly as her father, for she has 
been brought up in the retirement of the country. Neither is 
she of such vivacious deportment ; for the tones of her voice 
are soft and plaintive, and she loves pathetic music. She is 
rather pensive — yet not too pensive ; just what is called inter- 
esting. Her eyes are hke her father's, except that they are of 
a purer blue, and more tender and languishing. She has hgiit 
hail* — not exactly flaxen, for I do not Mke flaxen hair, but 
between that and auburn. In a word, she is a tall, elegant, 
imposing, languishing, blue-eyed, romantic-looking beauty." 
And having thus finished her picture, I felt ten times more in 
love with her than ever. 



I felt so much recovered that I would at once have left 
my room, but Mr. Somerville objected to it. He had sent 
early word to my family of my safety ; and my father arrived 
in the course of the morning. He was shocked at learning the 
risk I had run, but rejoiced to find me so much restored, and 
was warm in his thanks to Mr. Somerville for his kindness. 
The other only required, in return, that I might remain two or 
three days as his guest, to give tune for my recovery, and for 
our forming a closer acquaintance ; a request which my father 
readily gsanted. Scipio accordingly accompanied my father 
home, and returned with a supply of clothes, and with affec- 
tionate letters from my mother and sisters. 

The next morning, aided by Scipio, I made my toilet with 
rather more care than usual, and descended the stairs with 
some trepidation, eager to see the original of the portrait which 
had been so completely pictured in my imagination. 

On entering the parlor, I found it deserted. Like the rest of 
the house, it was furnished in a foreign style. The curtains 
were of French sUk; there were Grecian couches, marble 
tables, pier-glasses, and chandeliers. What chiefly attracted 
my eye, were documents of female taste that I saw around 
me ; a piano, with an ample stock of Italian music : a book of 
poetry lying on the sofa ; a vase of fresh flowers on a table, and 
a portf oho open with a skilful and half-flnished sketch of them. 
In the window was a canary bird, in a gilt cage, and near by. 



26 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

the harp that had been in Julia's arms. Happy harp ! But 
where was the being that reigned in this little empire of deli- 
cacies?— that breathed poetry and song, and dwelt among birds 
and flowei-s, and rose-colored curtains? 

Suddenly I heard the hall door fly open, the quick pattering 
of hght steps, a wild, capricious strain of music, and the shrill 
barking of a dog. A light, frohc nymph of fifteen came trip- 
ping into the room, playing on a flageolet, with a httle spaniel 
romping after her. Her gipsy hat had fallen back upon her 
shoulders ; a profusion of glossy brown hair was blown in rich 
ringlets about her face, which beamed through them with the 
brightness of smiles and dimples. 

At sight of me she stopped short, in the most beautiful con- 
fusion, stammered out a word or two about looking for her 
father, ghded out of the door, and I heard her bounding up 
the staircase, like a frighted fawn, with the little dog barking 
after her. 

When Miss Somerville returned to the parlor, she was quite 
a different being. She entered, steahng along by her mother's 
side with noiseless step, and sweet timidity: her hair was 
prettily adjusted, and a soft blush mantled on her damask 
cheek. Mr. Somerville accompanied the ladies, and introduced 
«ne regiilarly to them. There were many kind inquirias and 
much sympathy expressed, on the subject of my nautical acci- 
dent, and some remarks upon the wild scenery of the neighbor- 
hood, with which the ladies seemed perfectly acquainted, 

" You must know," said Mr. Somerville, " that we are great 
navigators, and dehght in exploring every nook and comer of 
the river. My daughter, too, is a great hunter of the pictur- 
esque, and transfers every rock and glen to her portfolio. By 
the way, my dear, show Mr. Mountjoy that pretty scene you 
have lately sketched." Julia compHed, blushing, and drew 
from her portfolio a colored sketch. I almost started at the 
sight. It was my favorite brook. A sudden thought darted 
across my mind. I glanced down my eye, and beheld the 
divinest little foot in the world. Oh, bhssful conviction ! The 
struggle of my affections was at an end. The voice and the 
footstep were no longer at variance. Jiilia Somerville was the 
nymph of the fountain ! 



What conversation passed during breakfast I do not recol- 
lect, and hardly was conscious of at the time, for my thoughts 



MOTJNTJOY. 27 

were in complete confusion. I wished to gazo on Miss Somer- 
ville,but did not dare. Once, indeed, I ventured a glance. She 
was at that moment darting a similar one from under a covert 
of ringlets. Om- eyes seemed shocked by the rencontre, and 
fell; hers thi'ough the natural modesty of her sex, mine 
through a bashfulness produced by the previous workings of 
my imagination. That glance, however, went like a sun-beam 
to my heart. 

A convenient mirror favored my diflBdence, and gave me the 
reflection of Miss Somerville's form. It is tiiie it only present- 
ed the back of her head, but she had the merit of an ancient 
statiie ; contemplate her from, any point of view, she was beau- 
tiful. And yet she was totally difEerent from everything I had 
before conceived of beauty. She was not the serene, medita- 
tive maid that I had pictured the nymph of the fountain ; nor 
the tall, soft, languishing, blue-eyed, dignified being that I had 
fancied the minstrel of the harp. There was nothing of dignity 
about her : she was girhsh in her appearance, and scarcely of 
the middle size ; but then there was the tenderness of budding 
youth ; the sweetness of the half -blown rose, when not a tint 
or perfiune has been withered or exhaled; there were smiles 
and dimples, and all the soft witcheries of ever-varying expres- 
sion. I wondered that I coiild ever have admired any other 
style of beauty. 

After breakfast, Mr. Somerville departed to attend to the 
concerns of his estate, and gave me in charge of the ladies. 
Mrs. SomerviQe also was called away by household cares, and 
I was left aione with Jidia! Here, then, was the situation 
which of all others I had most coveted. I was ia the presence 
of the lovely being that had so long been the desire of my 
heart. We were alone; propitious opiDortunity for a lover S 
Did I seize upon it? Did I break out in one of my accustomed 
rhapsodies? No such thing! Never was being more awk- 
wardly embarrassed. 

"What can be the cause of this?" thought I. "Surely, I 
cannot stand in awe of this young girl. I am of course her 
superior in intellect, and am never embarrassed in company 
with my tutor, notwithstanding all liis wisdom. " 

It was passing strange. I felt that if she were an old woman, 
I should be quite at my ease ; if she were even an ugly woman, 
I should make out very well: it was her beauty that over- 
powered me. How httle do lovely women know what awfiil 
beings they are, in the eyes of inexperienced youth ! Yoxing 



28 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

men brought uj) in the fashionable circles of our cities will 
smile at all this. Accustomed to mingle incessantly in female 
society, and to have the romance of the heart deadened by a 
thousand frivolous flirtations, women are nothing but women 
in their eyes ; but to a susceptible youth like myself, brought 
up in the country, they are perfect divinities. 

Miss Somerville was at first a little embarrassed herself ; but, 
some how or other, women have a natural adroitness in recov- 
ering their self-possession ; they are more alert in their minds, 
and graceful in their manners. Beside, I was but an ordinary 
personage in Miss Somerville's eyes; she was not under the 
influence of such a singular course of imaginings as had sur- 
rounded her, in my eyes, with the illusions of romance. 
Perhaps, too, she saw the confusion in the opposite camp and 
gained courage from the discovery. At any rate she was the 
first to take the field. 

Her conversation, however, was only on common-place 
topics, and in an easy, well-bred style. I endeavored to re- 
spond in the same manner ; but I was strangely incompetent 
to the task. My ideas were frozen up ; even words seemed to 
fail me. I was excessively vexed at myself, for I wished to be 
uncommonly elegant. I tried two or three times to turn a 
pretty thought, or to utter a fine sentiment ; but it would come 
forth so trite, so forced, so mawkish, that I was ashamed of it. 
My very voice sounded discordantly, though I sought to modu- 
late it into the softest tones. "The truth is," thought I to 
myself, "I cannot bring my mind down to the sinall talk 
necessary for young girls ; it is too masculine and robust for 
the mincing measure of parlor gossip. I am a philosopher — 
and that accounts for it." 

The entrance of Mrs. Somerville at length gave me rehef . I 
at once breathed freely, and felt a vast deal of confidence come 
over me. "This is strange," thought I, "that the appearance 
of another woman should revive my courage ; that I should be 
a better match for two women than one. However, since it is 
so, I will take advantage of the circumstance, and let this 
young lady see that I am not so great a simpleton as she prob- 
ably thinks me." 

I accordingly took up the book of poetry which lay upon the 
sofa. It was Milton's "Paradise Lost." Nothing could have 
been more fortunate ; it afforded a fine scope for my favorite 
vein of grandiloquence. I went largely into a discussion of its 
merits, or rather an enthusiastic eulogy of them. My observa- 



M0UNTJ07. 29 

tions were addressed to Mrs. Sotnerville, for I found I coidd 
talk to her with more ease than to her daughter. She 
appeared ahve to the beauties of the poet, and disposed to meet 
me m the discussion; but it was not my object to hear her 
talk; it was to talk myself. I anticipated all she had to 
say, overpowered her with the copiousness of my ideas, and 
supported and illustrated them by long citations from the 
anther. 

While thus holding forth, I cast a side glance to see how 
Miss Somerville was aifected. She had some embroidery 
stretched on a frame before her, but had paused in her labor, 
and was looking down as if lost in mute attention. I felt a 
glow of seK-satisfaction, but I recollected, at the same time, 
with a kind of pique, the advantage she had enjoyed over me 
in our tete-a-tete. I determined to push my triumph, and ac- 
cordingly kept on with redoubled ardor, until I had fairly ex- 
hausted my subject, or rather my thoughts. 

I had scarce come to a full stop, when Miss Somerville 
raised her eyes from the work on which they had been fixed, 
and turning to her mother, observed : " I have been consider- 
ing, mamma, whether to work these flowers plain, or in 
colors." 

Had an ice-bolt shot to my heart, it could not have chilled 
me more effectually. "What a fool," thought I, "have I been 
making myself — squandering away fine thoughts, and fine lan- 
guage, upon a light mind, and an ignorant ear! This girl 
knows nothing of poetry. She has no soul, I fear, for its 
beauties. Can any one have real sensibihty of heart, and not 
be alive to poetry? However, she is young; this part of her 
education has been neglected : there is time enough to remed 
it. I will be her preceptor. I will kindle in her mind tho 
sacred flame, and lead her through the fairy land of song. 
But after all, it is rather unfortunate that I should have fallen 
in love with a woman who knows nothing of poetry, " 



I passed a day not altogether satisfactory. I was a little 
disappointed that Miss Somerville did not show any poetical 
feeling. "I am afraid, after all," said I to myself, "she is 
light and girlish, and more fitted to pluck wild flowers, play on 
the flageolet, and romp with little dogs than to converse with 
a man of my turn." 

I believe, however, to tell the truth, I was more out of 



30 THE CRA YON PAPERS. 

humor Avith myself. I thought I had made the worst first 
appearance that ever hero made, either in novel or fairy tale. 
I was out of all patience, when I called to mind my awkward 
attempts at ease and elegance in the tete-a-tete. And then my 
intolerable long lecture about poetry to catch the applause of 
a heedless auditor ! But there I was not to blame. I had cer- 
tainly been eloquent : it was her fault that the eloquence was 
wasted. To meditate upon the embroidery of a flower, when 1 
was expatiating on the beauties of Milton ! She might at least 
have admired the poetry, if she did not relish the manner in 
which it was dehvered : though that was not despicable, for I 
had recited passages in my best style, which my mother and 
sisters had always considered equal to a play. ' ' Oh, it is 
evident," thought I, "Miss Somerville has very little soul!" 

Such were my fancies and cogitations during the day, the 
greater part of which was spent in my chamber, for I was stiD 
languid. My evening was passed in the drawing-room, where 
I overlooked Miss Somerville's portfolio of sketches. 

They were executed with great taste, and showed a nice ob- 
S'^rvation of the peculiarities of nature. They were all her own, 
and free from those cunning tints and touches of the drawing- 
master, by which young ladies' drawings, like their heads, are 
dressed up for company. There was no garnish or vulgar trick 
of colors, either ; all was executed with singular truth and sim.- 
plicity. 

" And yet," thought I, "this little being, who has so pure an 
eye to take in, as in a hmpid brook, all the graceful forms and 
magic tints of nature, has no soul for poetry !" 

Mr. Somerville, toward the latter part of the evening, observ- 
ing my eye to wander occasionally to the harp, interpreted 
and met my Avishes with his accustomed civility. 

"Julia, my dear," said he, "Mr. Mountjoy would hke to hear 
a little music from your harp ; let us hear, too, the sound of 
your voice." 

Julia immediately complied, without any of that hesitation 
and difficulty, by which young ladies are apt to make company 
pay dear for bad music. She sang a sprightly strain, in a bril- 
liant style, that came trilling playfully over the ear; and the 
bright eye and dimpling smile showed that her little heart 
danced with the song. Her pet canary bird, who hung close 
by, was awakened by the music, and burst forth into an emu- 
lating strain. Julia smiled with a pretty air of defiance, and 
played louder. — 



MOUN'l'JOi: 31 

After some time, the music changed, and ran into a plaintive 
strain, in a minor key. Then it was, that all the former 
witchery of her voice came over me; then it was that she 
seemed to sing from the heart and to the heart. Her fingers 
moved about the chords as if they scarcely touched them. 
Her whole manner and appearance changed ; her eyes beamed 
with the softest expression; her countenance, her frame, all 
seemed subdued into tenderness. She rose from the harp, 
leaving it still vibrating with sweet sounds, and moved toward 
her father to bid him good night. 

His eyes had been fixed on her intently, during her perfor- 
mance. As she came before hun he parted her shining ringlets 
with both his hands, and looked down with the fondness of a 
father on her innocent face. The music seemed still lingering 
ill its lineaments, and the action of her father brought a moist 
gleam in her eye. He kissed her fair forehead, after the 
French mode of parental caressing: "Good night, and God 
bless you," said he, "my good little girl!" 

Julia tripped away, with a tear in her eye, a dimple in her 
cheek, and a light heart in her bosom. I thought it the pret- 
tiest picture of paternal and fihal affection I had ever seen. 

When I retii-ed to bed, a new train of thoughts crowded into 
ni}^ brain. " After all," said I to myself, " it is clear this girl 
has a soul, though she was not moved by my eloquence. She 
has all the outward signs and evidences of poetic feeling. She 
paints well, and has an eye for natiu-e. She is a fine musician, 
and enters into the very soul of song. What a pity that she 
knows nothing of poetry ! But we will see what is to be done. 
I am irretrievably in love with her; what then am I to do? 
Come down to the level of her mind, or endeavor to raise her 
to some kind of intellectual equality with myself? That is the 
most generous course. She will look up to me as a benefactor. 
I shall become associated in her mind with the lofty thoughts 
and harmonious gi'aces of poetry. She is apparently docile; 
beside, the difference of our ages wUl give me an ascendancy 
over her. She cannot be above sixteen years of age, and I am 
full turned to twenty." So, having built this most delectable 
of air castles, I fell asleep. 



The next morning I was quite a different being. I no longer 
felt fearful of stealing a glance at Julia ; on the contrary, I 
contemplated her steadily, v/ith the benignant eye of a benefac- 



32 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

tor. Shortly after breakfast I found myself alone with her, as 
I had on the preceding niormng ; but I felt nothing of the awk- 
wardness of our previous tete-a-tete. I was elevated by the 
consciousness of my intfllectual supei'iority, and should almost 
have felt a sentiment of pity for the ignorance of the lovely 
little being, if I had not felt also the assurance that I should be 
able to dispel it. " But it is time," thought I, "to open school." 

Julia was occupied in arranging some music on her piano. 
I looked over two or three songs; they were Moore's Irish 
melodies. 

' ' These are pretty things !" said I, flirting the leaves over 
lightly, and giving a shgbt shi'ug, by way of quahfying the 
opinion. 

"Oh, I love them of all tilings," said Julia, "they're so 
touching !" 

" Then you like them for the poetry," said I, with an encour- 
aging smile. 

' ' Oh yes ; she thought them charmingly wi-itten. " 

Now was my time. " Poetry," said I, assiuning a didactic 
attitude and air, "poetry is one of the most pleasing studies 
that can occuj^y a youthful mind. It renders us susceptible of 
the gentle impulses of humanity, and cherishes a delicate per- 
ception of all that is virtuous and elevated in morals, and 
graceful and beautiful in physics. It " 

I was going on in a style that would have graced a professor 
of rhetoric, when I saw a hght smUe playing about Miss 
SomerviUe's mouth, and that she began to turn over the leaves 
of a music-book. I recollected her inattention to my discourse 
of the preceding morning. "There is no fixing her hght 
mind," thought I, "by abstract theory; we will proceed prac- 
tically." As it happened, the identical volume of Milton's 
Paradise Lost was lying at hand. 

"Let me recommend to you, my young friend, " said I, in 
one of those tones of persuasive admonition, which I had so 
often loved in Glencoe, ' ' let me recommend to you this ad- 
mirable poem ; you will find in it sources of intellectual enjoy- 
ment far superior to those songs which have dehghted you. ~ 
Juha looked at the book, and then at me, with a whimsically 
dubious air. "Milton's Pai-adise Lost?" said she; "oh, I 
know the greater part of that by heart. " 

I had not expected to find my pupil so far ad-«^anced ; how- 
ever, the Paradise Lost is a kind of school-book, and its finest 
passages are given to yotmg ladies as tasks. 



M0UNTJ07. 33 

"I find," said I to myself, " I must not treat her as so com' 
plete a novice ; her inattention yesterday could not have pro- 
ceeded from absolute ignorance, but merely from a want of 
poetic feeling. I'll try her again." 

I now determined to dazzle her with my own erudition, and 
launched into a harangue that would have done honor to an 
institute. Pope, Spenser, Chaucer, and the old dramatic wri- 
ters were all dipped into, with the excursive flight of a 
swallow. I did not confine myself to English poets, but gave 
a glance at the French and Itahan schools; I passed over 
Ariosto in full wing, but paused on Tasso's Jerusalem De- 
Hvered. I dwelt on the character of Clorinda: "There's a 
character," said I, "that you will find well worthy a woman's 
study. It shows to what exalted heights of heroism the sex 
can rise, how gloriously they may share even in the stern con- 
cerns of men." 

"For my part," said JuHa, gently taking advantage of a 
pause, "for my part, I prefer the character of Sophronia." 

I was thimderstruck. She then had read Tasso ! Tliis girl 
that I had been treating as an ignoramus in poetry ! She pro- 
ceeded with a shght glow of the cheek, summoned up perhaps 
by a casual glow of feehng: 

"I do not admire those masculine heroines," said she, " who 
aim at the bold qualities of the opposite sex. Now Soph- 
ronia only exhibits the real quahties of a woman, wrought 
up to their highest excitement. She is modest, gentle, and 
retiring, as it becomes a woman to be; but she has all the 
strength of affection proper to a woman. She cannot fight for 
her people as Clorinda does, but she can offer herself up, and 
die to serve them. You may admire Clorinda, but you surel;^ 
would be more apt to love Sophronia; at least," added she, 
suddenly appearing to recollect herself, and blushing at having 
launched into such a discussion, "at least that is what papa 
observed when we read the poem together." 

" Indeed," said I, dryly, for I felt disconcerted and nettled ai; 
being unexpectedly lectured by my pupil; "indeed, I do not 
exactly recollect the passage." 

"Oh," said JuHa, "I can repeat it to you;" and she im^ 
mediately gave it in Itahan. 

Heavens and earth ! — here was a situation ! I knew no more 
of Itahan than I did of the language of Psalnaanazar. What a 
dilemma for a would-be- wise man to be placed in! I saw 
JuUa waited for my opinion. 



34 THE CRAYON PAPERS. . 

"In fact," said I, hesitating, "I — I do not exactly under- 
stand Italian." 

" Oh," said Julia, with the utmost naivete, " I have no doubt 
it is very beautiful in the translation." 

I was glad to break up school, and get back to my chamber, 
full of the mortification which a wise man in love experiences 
on finding his mistress wiser than himself. "Translation! 
translation !" muttered I to myself , as I jerked the door shut 
behind me : " I am surprised my father has never had me in- 
structed in the modern languages. They are all-important. 
What is the use of Latin and Greek? No one speaks them; 
but here, lihe moment I make my appearance in the world, a 
little girl slaps Itahan in my face. However, thank heaven, a 
language is easily learned. The moment I return home, I'll 
set about studying Itahan ; and to prevent future surprise, I 
vv'ill study Spanish and German at the same time ; and if any 
young lady attempts to quote Itahan upon me again, I'll bury 
her imder a heap of High Dutch poetry !" 



I felt now like some mighty chieftain, who has carried the 
war into a weak comitry, with fuU confidence of success, and 
been repulsed and obliged to draw off his forces from before 
some inconsiderable fortress. 

"However," thought I, "I have as yet brought only my 
light artiUery into action ; we shaU see what is to be done with 
my heavy ordnance. Julia is evidently well versed in poetry ; 
but it is natural she should be so ; it is aUied to painting and 
music, and is congenial to the light graces of the female char- 
acter. We will try her on graver themes." 

I felt aU my pride awakened; it even for a time swelled 
higher than my love. I was determined completely to estab- 
lish my mental superiority, and subdue the intellect of this 
Mttle being; it would then be time to sway the sceptre of 
gentle empire, and win the affections of her heart. 

Accordingly, at dinner I again took the field, en potence. I 
now addressed myself to Mr. SomerviUe, for I was about to 
enter upon toincs in which a young girl like her could not be 
v/ell versed. I led, or rather forced, the conversation into a 
vein of historical erudition, discussing several of the most 
prominent facts of ancient history, and accompanying them 
with sound, indisputable apothegms. 

Mr. Somei'viUe hstened to me with the air of a man '^e- 



MOUNTJOT. 35 

ceiving mformation. I was encouraged, and went on glori- 
ously from theme to theme of school declamation. I sat with 
Marius on the ruins of Carthage ; I defended the bridge with 
Horatius Codes ; thi-usfc my hand into the flame with Martins 
Scsevola, and plunged with Curtius into the yawning gulf ; 1 
fought side by side ^vith Leonidas, at the straits of Thermo- 
pylae : and was going full drive into the battle of Plataea, when 
my memory, which is the worst in the world, failed me, just 
as I wanted the name of the Lacedemonian commander. 

"Julia, my dear," said Mr. Somerv^ille. "perhaps you may 
recoUect the name of which Mr. Mount joy is in quest?" 

Julia colored slightly. "I believe," said she, in a low voice, 
"I believe it was Pausanias." 

This unexpected sally, instead of reinforcing me, threw my 
whole scheme of battle into confusion, and the Athenians re- 
mained unmolested in the field. 

I am half inclined, since, to think Mr. Somerville meant this 
as a sly hit at my schoolboy pedantry ; but he was too well 
bred not to seek to reUeve me from hay mortification. " Oh!" 
said he, " JuHa is our family book of reference for names, 
dates, and distances, and has an excellent memory for history 
and geography." 

I now became desperate ; as a last resource I turned to meta- 
physics. "If she is a philosopher in petticoats," thought I, 
"it is all over with me." Here, nowever, I had the field to 
myself. I gave chapter and verse of my tutor's lectures, 
heightened by all his poetical illustrations ; I even went further 
than he had ever ventured, and plunged int^ such depths of 
metaphysics, that I was in danger of sticking in the mire at 
the bottom. Fortunately, I had auditors who apparently 
could not detect my flounderings. Neither Mr. Somerville nor 
his daughter offered the least interruption. 

When the ladies had retired, Mr. Somerville sat some time 
with me ; and as I was no longer anxious to astonish, I per- 
mitted myself to Hsten, and found that he was really agreeable. 
He was quite communicative, and from his conversation I was 
enabled to form a juster idea of liis daughter's character, and 
the mode in which she had been brought up. Mr. Somerville 
had mingled much with the world, and with what is termed 
fashionable society. He had experienced its cold elegancies 
and gay insincerities ; its dissipation of the spirits and squan- 
derings of the heart. Like many men of the world, though he 
had wandered too far from nature ever to return to it, yet he 



36 TUB CRAYON iwriuis. 

had the good taste and good feeling to look back fondly to its 
simple delights, and to determine that his doild, if possible, 
should never leave them. He had superintended her education 
with sci-upulous care, storing her riiind with the graces of 
polite hterature, and with such knowledge as would enable it 
to furnish its own amusement and occupation, and giving her 
all the accomplishments that sweeten and enhven the circle of 
domestic life. He had been particularly sedulous to exclude 
all fashionable affectations; all false sentiment, false sensi- 
bihty, and false romance. "Whatever advantages she may 
possess," said he, "she is quite unconscious of them. She is 
a capricious little being, in everything but her affections ; she 
is, however, free from art; simple, ingenuous, amiable, and, I 
thank God! happy." 

Such was the eulogy of a fond father, delivered with a ten- 
derness that touched me. I could not help making a casual 
inqmry, whether, among the gx'aces of pohte literature, he had 
included a slight tincture of metaphysics. He smiled, and told 
me he had not. 

On the whole, when, as usual, that night, I simimed up the 
day's observations on my pillow, J was not altogether dissatis- 
fied. "Miss Somerville," said I, "loves poetry, and I like her 
the better for it. She has the advantage of me in Itahan; 
agreed ; what is it to know a variety of languages, but merely 
to have a variety of sounds to express the-same idea? Original 
thought is the ore of the mind ; language is but the accidental 
stan>p and coinage by which it is put into circulation. If I 
can furnish an original idea, what care I how many languages 
she can translate it into? She may be able also to quote 
names, and dates, and latitudes better than I ; but that is a 
mere effort of the memory. I admit she is more accurate in 
history and geography than I ; but then she knows nothing 
of metaphysics." 

I had now sufficiently recovered to return home; yet I could 
not think of leaving Mr. Somerville' s without having a Uttle 
further conversation with him on the subject of his daughter's 
education. 

"Tins Mr. SomerviUe," thought I, "is a very accomphshed, 
elegant man ; he has seen a good deal of the world, and, upon 
the whole, has profited by what he has seen. He is not with- 
out information, and, as far as he thinks, appears to think 
correctly; but after all, he is rather superficial, and does 
not think profoundly. He seems to take no deUght in those 



MOUNTJOY. 37 

metaphysical abstractions that are the proper aliment of mas- 
culine minds." I called to mind various occasions in which I 
had indulged largely in metaphysical discussions, but could 
recollect no instance where I had been able to draw him out. 
He had hstened, itis true, with attention, and smiled as if in 
acquiescence, but had always appeared to avoid reply. Be- 
side, I had made several sad blunders in the glow of eloquent 
declamation ; but he had never interrupted axe, to notice and 
correct them, as he would have done had he been versed in 
the theme. 

"Now, it is really a great pity," resumed I, "that he should 
have the entire management of Miss Somerville's education. 
What a vast advantage it would be, if she could be put for a 
httle tune under the superintendence of Glencoe. He would 
throw some deeper shades of thought into her mind, which at 
present is all s<.mshine ; not but that Mr. Somerville has done 
very well, as far as he has gone ; but then he has merely pre- 
pared the soil for the strong plants of useful knowledge. She 
is well versed in the leading facts of history, and the general 
course of belles-lettres," said I; "a httle more philosophy 
would do wonders." 

I accordingly took occasion to ask Mr. Somerville for a few 
moments' conversation in his study, the morning I was to 
depart. When we were alone I opened the matter fully to 
him. I conunenced with the warmest eulogium of Glencoe's 
powers of mind, and vast acquirements, and ascribed to him 
all my proficiency in the higher branches of knowledge. I 
begged, therefore, to recommend him as a friend calculated to 
direct the studies of Miss Somerville; to lead her mind, by 
degrees, to the contemplation of abstract principles, and to 
produce habits of philosophical analysis ; ' ' which, " added I, 
gently smiling, "are not often cultivated by young ladies." I 
ventured to hint, in addition, that he would find Mr. Glencoe 
a most valuable and interesting acquaintance for himself ; one 
who vrould stimulate and evolve the powers of his mind; and 
who might open to him tracts of inquiry and speciilaiion, to 
which perhaps L .^ had hitherto been a stranger. 

Mr. Somerville listened with grave attention. When I had 
finished, he thanked me in the politest manner for the interest 
I took in the welfare of his daughter and himself. He ob- 
served that, as regarded himself, he was afraid he was too old 
to benefit by the instniction of Mr. Glencoe, and that as to his 
daughter, he was afraid her mind was but little fitted for the 



38 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

study of metaphysics. "I do not wish," continued he, "to 
strain her intellects with subjects they cannot grasp, but to 
make her familiarly acquainted with those that are within the 
limits of her capacity. I do not pretend to prescribe the 
boundaries of female genius, and am far from induljpxig the 
viilgar opinion, that women are unfitted by na.ture for the 
highest intellectual pursuits. I speak only with reference to 
my daughter's tastes and talents. She will never make a 
lear-ned woman ; nor, in truth, do I desire it ; for such is the 
jealousy of our sex, as to mental as weU as physical ascend- 
ancy, that a learned woman is not always the happiest. I do 
not wish my daughter to excite envy, or to battle with the 
prejudices of the world ; but to glide peaceably through life, 
on the good will and kind opinions of her friends. She has 
ample employment for her httle head, in the course I have 
marked out for her ; and is busy at present with some branches 
of natural history, calculated to awaken her perceptions to the 
beauties and wonders of nature, and to the inexhaustible vol- 
ume of wisdom constantly spread open before her eyes. I 
consider that woman most likely to make an agreeable com- 
panion, who can draw topics of pleasing remark from every 
natural object; and most likely to be cheerful and contented, 
who is continually sensible of the order, the harmony, and the 
invariable beneficence, that reign throughout the beautiful 
world we inhabit. " 

"But," added he, smiling, "I am betraying myself into a 
lecture, instead of merely giving a reply to your kind offer. 
Permit me to take the hberty, in return, of inquiring a little 
about your own pursuits. You speak of having finished your 
education ; but of course you have a line of private study and 
mental occupation marked out ; for you must know the impor- 
tance, both in point of interest and happiness, of keeping the 
mind employed. May I ask what system you observe in your 
intellectual exercises?" 

"Oh, as to system," I observed, " I could never bring myself 
into anything of the kind. I thought it best to let my genius 
take its own course, as it always acted the most vigorously 
when stimulated by incHnation." 

Mr. Somerville shook his head. "This same genius," said 
he, " is a wild quality, that runs away with our most promis- 
ing young men. It has become so much the fashion, too, to 
give it the reins, that it is now thought an animal of too noble 
and generous a nature to be brought to harness. But it is aJi 



M0UNTJ07. 39 

a mistake. Nature never designed these high endowments to 
run riot through society, and throw the whole system into 
confusion. No, my dear sir, genius, unless it acts upon sys- 
tem, is very apt to be a useless quality to society; sometimes 
an injurious, and certainly a very uncomfortable one, to its 
possessor. I have had many opportunities of seeing the pro- 
gress through life of young men who were accounted geniuses, 
and have found it too often end in early exhaustion and bitter 
disappointment; and have as often noticed that these effects 
might be traced to a total want of system. There were no 
habits of business, of steady purpose, and regular application, 
superinduced upon the mind; everything was left to chance 
and impulse, ard native luxuriance, and everything of course 
I an to waste and wild entanglement. Excuse me if I am 
tedious on this point, for I feel solicitous to impress it upon 
you, being an error extremely prevalent in our country and 
one into which too many of our youth have fallen. I am 
happy, however, to obsei-ve the zeal which still appears to 
actuate you for the acquisition of knowledge, and augur every 
good from the elevated bent of your ambition. May I ask 
what has been your course of study ior the last six months?" 

Never was question more unluckily timed. For the last six 
months I had been absolutely biu-ied in novels and romances. 

Mr. Somerville perceived that the question was embarrass- 
ing, and with his invariable good breeding, inunediately re^ 
gumed the conversation, without waiting for a reply. He took 
care, however, to turn it in such a way as to draw from me an 
account of the whole manner in which I had been educated, 
and the various currents of reading into which my mind had 
run. He then went on to discuss, briefly but impressively, 
the different branches of knowledge most important to a 
young man in my situation ; and to my surprise I found hina 
a complete master of those studies on which I had supposed 
him ignorant, and on which I had been descanting so confi- 
dently. 

He complimented me, however, very gi-aciously, upon the 
progi-ess I had made, but advised me for the present to turn 
my attention to the physical rather than the moral sciences. 
"These studies," said he, "store a man's mind with valuable 
facts, and at the same time repress self-confidence, by letting 
him know how boundless are the realms of knowledge, and 
how little we can possibly loiow. "Whereas metaphysical stu' 
dies, though of an ingenious order of intellectual employment^ 



40 THE CRAYOj\' papers. 

are apt to bewilder some minds with vague speculations. They 
never know how iar they have advanced, or what may be the 
correctness of their favorite theory. They render many of our 
young men verbose and declamatory, and prone to mistake 
the aberrations of their fancy for the inspirations of divine 
philosophy." 

I could not but interrupt hun, to assent to the truth of these 
remarks, and to say that it had been my lot, in the course of 
my hmited experience, to encounter young men of the kind, 
who had overwhelmed me by their verbosity. 

Mr. Someiwille smiled. "I trust," said he, kindly, "that 
you will guard against these errors. Avoid the eagerness with 
which a yoimg man is apt to hurry into conversation, and to 
utter the crude and ill-digested notions which he has picked up 
in liis recent studies. Be assirred that extensive and accurate 
knowledge is the slow acquisition of a studious lifetime ; that a 
young man, however pregnant his wit, and prompt his talent, 
can have mastei'ed but the rudunents of learning, and, in a 
manner, attained the implements of study. Whatever may 
have been your past assiduity, you must be sensible that as 
yet you have but reached the threshold of true knowledge ; but 
at the same time, you have the advantage that you are still 
very young, and have ample time to learn. " 

Here our conference ended. I walked out of the study, a very 
different being from what I was on entering it. I had gone in 
with the air of a professor about to deliver a lectm-e ; I came 
out Hke a student who had faUed in his examination, and been 
degraded in his class. 

"Very young," and "on the threshold of knowledge" ! This 
was extremely flattering, to one who had considered himself 
an accomplished scholar, and profound philosopher. 

"It is singular," thought I; "there seems to have been a 
spell upon my faculties, ever since I have been in this house. 
I certainly have not been able to do myself justice. Whenever 
I have undei'taken to advise, I have had the tables turned upon 
me. It must be that I am strange and diffident among people 
I am not accustomed to. I wish they could hear me talk at 
home !" 

"After aU," added I, on fui'ther reflection, "after all, there 
is a great deal of force in what Mr. Somerville has said. Some- 
how or other, these men of the world do now and then hit 
upon remarks that would do credit to a philosopher. Some ol 
his general observations came so home, that I almost thought 



THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 41 

they were meant for myself. His ad\dce about adopting a 
system of study is very judicious. I will immediately put it 
in practice. My mind shall operate henceforward with the 
regularity of clock-work." 

How far I succeeded in adopting this plan, how 1 fared in 
the further p rsuit of knowledge, and how I succeeded in my 
suit to Julia Somerville, may afford matter for a further com 
munication to the public, if this simple record of my early hie 
is fortunate enough, to excite any ciuiosity. 



THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 
"a time of unexampled prosperity." 

In the course of a voyage from England, I once fell in with 
a convoy of merchant ships bound for the West Indies. The 
■weather was uncommonly bland ; and the ships vied with each 
other in spreading sail to catch a hght, favoring breeze, until 
their hulls were almost hidden beneath a cloud of canvps. 
The breeze went down with the sun, and his last yeUow rays 
shone upon a thousand sails, idly flapping against the masts. 

I exulted in the beauty of the scene, and augured a pros- 
I>erous voyage ; but the veteran master of the ship shook his 
head, and pronounced this halcyon calm a " weather-breeder." 
And so it proved. A storm buret forth in the night ; the sea 
roared and raged; and when the day broke, I beheld the late 
gallant convoy scattered in every direction ; some dismasted, 
others scudding under bare poles, and many firing signals of 
distress. 

I have since been occasionally reminded of this scene, by 
those calm, sunny seasons in the commercial world, which arc 
Imown by the name of "times of unexampled prosperity." 
They are the sure weather-breeders of traffic. Every now and 
then the world is visited by one of these delusive seasons, when 
" the credit system," as it is called, expands to full luxuriance, 
everybody trusts everybody; a bad debt is a thing unheard of; 
the broad way to certain and sudden wealth lies plain and 
open ; and men are tempted to dash forward boldly, from tha 
facility of borrowing. 

Promissory notes, interchanged between scheming indi 



42 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

vidiials, are liberally discounted at the banks, which become 
so many mints to coin words into cash ; and as the supply of 
words is inexliaustible, it may readily be supposed what a vast 
amount of promissory capital is soon in circulation. Every one 
now talks in thousands ; nothing is heard but gigantic opera- 
tions in trade ; great i)urchases and sales of real property, and 
immense simis made at every transfer. All, to be sure, as yet 
exists in promise ; but the believer in promises calculates the 
aggregate as solid capital, and falls back in amazement at the 
amount of public wealth, the "unexampled state of public 
prosperity." 

Now is the time for speculative and dreaming or designing 
men. They relate their dreams and projects to the ignorant 
and credulous, dazzle them with golden visions, and set them 
madding after shadows. The example of one stimulates 
another; speculation rises on speculation; bubble rises on 
bubble; every one helps with his breath to swell the windy 
superstructure, and admires and wonders at the magnitude of 
the inflation he has contributed to produce. 

Speculation is the romance of trade, and casts contempt upon 
all its sober realities. It renders the stock-jobber a magician, 
and the exchange a region of enchantment. It elevates the 
merchant into a kind of knight-errant, or rather a commercial 
Quixote, The slow but sure gains of snug percentage become 
despicable in his eyes; no "operation" is thought worthy oi 
attention, that does not double or treble the investment. No 
business is worth foUo-wing, that does not promise an imme- 
diate fortune. As he sits musing over his ledger, with pen 
behind his ear, he is like La Mancha's hero in his study, 
dreaming over his books of chivalry. His dusty counting- 
house fades before his eyes, or changes into a Spanish mine; 
he gropes after diamonds, or dives after pearls. The subter- 
ranean garden of Aladdin is nothing to the realms of wealth 
that break upon his imagination. 

Could this delusion always last, the hfe of a merchant would 
indeed be a golden dream ; but it is as short as it is briUiant. 
Let but a doubt enter, and the "season of unexampled pros- 
perity" is at end. The coinage of words is suddenly curtailed; 
the promissory capital begins to vanish into smoke ; a panic 
succeeds, and the whole superstructure, built upon credit, 
and reared by speculation, crumbles to the ground, leaving 
scarce a wreck behind : 

" It is such stuff as dreams are made of." 



THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 43 

When a man of business, therefore, hears on every side 
rumoi-s of fortunes suddenly acquired; when he finds banks 
liberal, and brokers busy ; when he sees adventurers flush of 
paper capital, and full of scheme and enterprise ; when he per- 
ceives a groater disposition to buy than to sell ; when trade 
overflows its accustomed channels and deluges the country; 
when he hears of new regions of conunercial adventure; of 
distant marts and distant mines, swallowing merchandise and 
disgorging gold; when he finds joint stock companies of all 
kinds forming; railroads, canals, and locomotive engines, 
springing up on every side ; when idlers suddenly become men 
of business, and dash into the game of commerce as they would 
into the hazards of the faro table ; when he beholds the streets 
glittering with new equipages, palaces conjured up by the 
magic of speculation ; tradesmen flushed with sudden success, 
and vying with each other in ostentatious expense ; in a word, 
when he hears the whole cpmmunity joining in the theme of 
"unexampled prosperity," let him look upon the whole as a 
"weather-breeder," and prepare for the impending stonn. 

The foregoing remarks are intended merely as a prelude to 
a narrative I am about to lay before the pubhc, of one of the 
most memorable instances of the infatuation of gain, to be 
found in the whole history of commerce. I allude to the 
famous Mississippi bubble. It is a matter that has passed into 
a proverb, and become a phrase in every one's mouth, yet of 
which not one merchant in ten has probably a distinct idea. 
I have therefore thought that an authentic account of it would 
be interesting and salutary, at the present moment, when we 
are suffering under the effects of a severe access of the credit 
system, and just recovering from one of its ruinous delusions. 



Before entering into the story of this famous chimera, it is 
proper to give a few particulars concerning the individual who 
engendered io. John Law was born in Edinbiu-gh in 1671. 
His father, William Law, was a rich goldsmith, and left his 
son an estate of considerable value, called Lauriston, situated 
about four miles from Edinburgh. Goldsmiths, in those days, 
acted occasionally as bankers, and his father's operations, 
under this character, may have originally turned the thoughts 
of the youth to the science of calculation, in which he became 
an adept ; so that at an early age he excelled in playing at all 
games of combination. 



44 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

In 1G94 he appeared in London, where a handsome person, 
and an easy and insinuating address, gained him currency in 
the first circles, and the nicli-name of "Beau Law." The same 
personal advantages gave lum success in the world of gal- 
lantry, mitil he became mvolved in a quarrel with Beau 
Wilson, his rival in fashion, whom he killed in a duel, and 
then fled to France, to avoid prosecution. 

He returned to Edinburgh in 1700, and remiiined there seve- 
ral years ; dui'ing which time he first broached his great credit 
system, ottering to supply the deficiency of coin by the estab- 
hshment of a bank, wliich, according to his views, might emit 
a paper currency, equivalent to the whole landed estate of the 
kingdom. 

His scheme excited great astonishment in Edinburgh ; but, 
though the government was not sufficiently advanced in finan- 
cial knowledge to detect the fallacies upon which it was 
founded, Scottish caution and suspicion served in the place 
of wisdom, and the project was rejected. Law met with no 
bettor success with the English Parliament ; and the fatal affair 
of the death of Wilson still hangin:^ over him, for which he 
had never been able to procure a pardon, he again went to 
France. 

The financial affaii's of France were at this time in a deplor- 
able condition. The wars, the pomp and profusion, of Louis 
XIV., and his religious persecutions of whole classes of the 
most industrious of liis subjects, had exhausted his treasury, 
and overwhelmed the nation with debt. The old monarch 
clung to his selfish magnificence, and could not be induced to 
diminish his enormous expenditure ; and his minister of finance 
was driven to his wits' end to devise all kinds of disastrous 
expedients to keep up the royal state, and to extricate the 
nation from its embarrassments. 

In this state of things. Law ventured to bring forward his 
financial project. It was founded on the plan of the Bank 
of England, which had already been in successful operation 
several years. He met with inmiediate patronage, and a con- 
genial spirit, in the Duke of Orleans, who had married a 
natural daughter of the king. The duke had been astonished 
at the facihty with which England had supported the burden 
of a public debt, created by the wars of Anne and WiUiam, 
and which exceeded in amount that under which France was 
groaning. The whole matter was soon explained by Law to 
bis satisfaction. The latter maintained that England had 



THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 45 

Stopped at the mere tbreshoid of an art capable of creating 
unlimited sources of national wealth. The duke was dazzled 
with hla Rplendid views and specious reasonings, and thought 
he clearly comprehended his system. Demarets, the Comp- 
troller General of Finance, was not so easily deceived. He 
pronounce! the plan of L9.W more pernicious than any of the 
disastrous expedients that the government had yet been driven 
to. The old king also, Louis XIV., detested all innovations, 
especially those which came from a rival nation ; the project 
of a banlc, therefore, was utterly rejected. 

Law remained for a while in Paris, leading a gay and affluent 
existence, owing to Ins handsome person, easy maimers, flexi- 
ble temper, and a faro-bank which he had set up. His agree- 
able career was interrupted by a message from D'Argcnson, 
Lieutenant General of Police, ordering him to quit Paris, 
alleging that he was ' ' rather too skilful at the game ichich he 
had introduced.'''' 

For several succeeding years he shifted his residence from 
state to state of Italy and Germany ; offering his scheme of 
finance to every court that he visited, but without success. 
The Duke of Savoy, Victor Amadous, afterward King of Sar- 
dinia, was much struck with his project ; but after considering 
it for a time, replied, ' ' I am not sufficiently powerful to ruin 
myself. " 

The sliifting, adventurous life of Law, and the equivocal 
means by which he appeared to live, playing high, and always 
with great success, threw a cloud of suspicion over him, wher- 
ever he went, and caused him to be expelled by the magistracy 
from the semi-commercial, semi-aristocratical cities of Venice 
and Genoa. 

The events of 1715 brought Law back again to Paris. Louis 
XIV. was dead. Louis XV. was a mere child, and during his 
minority the Duke of Orleans held the reigns of government as 
Regent. Law had at length found his man. 

The Duke of Orleans has been differently represented by 
different contemporaries. He appears to have had excellent 
natural qualities, perverted by a bad education. He was of 
the middle size, easy and gi-acePul, with an agreeable counte- 
nance, and open, affable demeanor. His mind was quick and 
sagacious, rather than profound; and his quickness of intel- 
lect, and excellence of memory, supplied the lack of studious 
application. His wit Avas prompt and pungent ; he expressed 
himself with vivacity and precision ; his imagination was vivid, 



46 THE CRATCN PAPERS. 

his temperament sanguine and joyous; his courage daring. 
His mother, the Duchess of Orleans, expressed his character in 
a jeu d'esprit. "The fairies," said she, "were incited to be 
present at liis birth, and each one conferred a talent on my 
son ; he possesses them all. Unfortunately, we had forgotten 
to invite an old fairy, who, arriving after all the othere, ex- 
claimed, ' He shall have all the talents, excepting that to make 
a. good use of them.' " 

Under proper tuition, the Duke might have risen to real 
greatness ; but in his early years, he was put under the tutc 
lage of the Abbe Dubois, one of the subtlest and basest spirits 
that ever intrigued its way into eminent place and power. 
The Abbe was of low origin, and despicable exterior, totally 
destitute of morals, and perfidious in the extreme ; but with a 
supple, insinuating address, and an accommodating spirit, 
tolerant of all kinds of profligacy in others. Conscious of his 
own inherent baseness, he sought to seciu-e an influence over 
his pupil, by corrupting his principles and fostering his vices ; 
he debased him, to keep himseK from being despised. Unfor- 
tunately he succeeded. To the early precepts of this infamous 
pander have been attributed those excesses that disgraced the 
manhood of the Regent, and gave a hcentious character to his 
whole coui-se of government. His love of pleasure, quickened 
and indulged by those who should have restrained it, led him 
into all kinds of sensual indulgence. He had been taught to 
think Mghtly of the most serious duties and sacred ties ; to turn 
virtue into a jest, and consider religion mere hypocrisy. He 
was a gay misanthi-ope, that had a sovereign but sportive con- 
tempt for mankind; believed that his most devoted servant 
would be his enemy, if interest prompted ; and maintained that 
an honest man was he who had the art to conceal that he was 
the contrary. 

He surrounded himself with a set of dissolute men like him- 
self ; who, let loose from the restraint under which they had 
been held, during the latter hypocritical days of Louis XIV. , 
now gave way to every kind of debauchery. With these men 
the Regent used to shut himself up, after the hours of busmess, 
and excluding all graver persons and graver concerns, celebrate 
the most drunken and disgusting orgies ; where obscenity and 
blasphemy formed the seasoning of conversation. For the 
profligate companions of these revels, he invented the appella- 
tion of his roues, the hteral meaning of which is men broken 
on the wheel ; intended, no doubt, to express their broken-down 



THE ORE AT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. - 47 

chai'acters and dislocated fortunes ; although a contemporary 
asserts that it designated the pimishment that most of them 
m.erited. Madame de Labran, who was present at one of the 
Regent's suppers, was disgusted by the conduct and conversa- 
tion of the host and liis guests, and observed at table, that God, 
after he had created man, took the refuse clay that was left, 
and made of it the souls of lacqueys and princes. 

Such was the man that now i-uled the destinies of France. 
Law found him full of perplexities, from the disastrous state 
of the finances. He had already tampered with the coinage, 
calhng in the coin of the nation, re-stamping it, and issuing it 
at a nominal increase of one fifth ; thus defrauding the nation 
out of twenty per cent of its capital. He was not hkely, there- 
fore, to be scrupidoiis about any means Hkely to reheve him 
from financial difficulties ; he had even been led to listen to the 
cruel alternative of a national bankruptcy. 

Under these circiunstances. Law confidently brought forward 
his scheme of a bank, that was to pay off the national debt, in- 
crease the revenue, and at the same time diminish the taxes. 
The following is stated as the theory by which he recommended 
his system to the Eegent. The credit enjoyed by a banker or 
a merchant, he observed, increases his capital tenfold ; that is 
to say, he who has a capital of one hundred thousand hvres, 
may, hi he possess sufficient credit, extend liis operations to a 
million, and reap profits to that amount. In hke manner, a state 
that can collect into a bank all the current coin of the kingdom, 
would be as powerful as if its capital were increased tenfold. The 
specie must be drawn into the bank, not by way of loan, or by 
taxations, but in the way of deposit. This might be effected in 
different modes, either by inspiring confidence, or by exerting 
authority. One mode, he observed, had already been in use. 
Each time that a state makes a re-coinage, it becomes momen- 
tarily the depositary of all the money called in, belonging to 
the subjects of that state. His bank was to effect the same 
purpose ; that is to say, to receive in deposit all the coin of the 
kingdom, but to give in exchange its bills, which, being of an 
invariable value, bearing an interest, and being payable on 
demand, would not only supply the place of coin, but prove a 
better and more profitable curi-ency. 

The Regent caught with avidity at the scheme. It suited his 
bold, reckless spirit, and his grasping extravagance. Not that 
he was altogether the dupe of Law's specious projects ; still he 
was apt, like many other men, unskilled in the arcana of 



48 TEE CRAYON PAPERS. 

finance, to mistake the multiplication of money for the mul- 
tiplication of wealth; not understanding that it was a mere 
agent or instin.iment in the interchange of traffic, to represent 
the value of the various productions of industry ; and that an 
increased circulation of com or baiik bills, in the shape of cur- 
rency, only adds a proportionably increased and fictitious 
value to such productions. Law enlisted the vanity of the 
Hcgent in his cause. He persuaded him that he saw more 
clearly than others into sublime theories of finance, which 
were quite above the ordinary ai^prehension. He used to de- 
clare that, excepting the Kegent and the Duke of Savoy, no 
one had thoroughly comprehended his system. 

It is certain that it met with strong opposition from the 
Eegent's ministers, the Duke de Noailles and the Chancellor 
d'iLQguesseau ; and it was no less strenuously opposed by the 
Parliament of Paris. Law, however, had a potent though 
secret coadjutor in the Abbe Dubois, now rising, during the 
regency, into great pohtical power, and who retained a baneful 
influence over the mind of the Regent. This wily priest, as 
avaricious as he was ambitious, drew large sums from Law as 
subsidies, and aided him greatly in many of his most pernicious 
operations. He aided him, in the present instance, to fortify 
the mind of the Regent against all the remonstrances of his 
ministers and the parliament. 

Accordingly, on the 3d of May, 1716, letters patent were 
granted to Law, to estabhsh a bank of deposit, discount, and 
circulation, under the firm of "Law and Company," to con- 
tinue for twenty years. The capital was fixed at six milUons 
of hvres, divided into shares of five hmidred livres each, which 
'svere to be sold for twenty -five per cent of the regent's debased 
coin, and seventy-five per cent of the public securities ; which 
were then at a great reduction from their nominal value, and 
which then amounted to mneteen hundred miUions. The os- 
tensible object of the bank, as set forth in the patent, was to 
encourage the commerce and manufactures of France. The 
louis d'ors and croT^ns of the bank were always to retain the 
same standard of value, and its bills to be payable in them on 
demand. 

At the outset, wliile the bank was hmited in its operations, 
and while its paper really represented the specie in its vaults, 
it seemed to i-ealize all that had been promised from it. It 
rapialy acquired public confidence, and an extended circula- 
tion, and produced an activity Jn commerce, unknown under 



TUE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 49 

thto baneful government of Louis XIV, As the bills of the 
bank bore an interest, and as it was stipulated they would be 
of invariable value, and as hints had been artftdly cii-culated 
that the coin would experience successive diminution, every- 
body hastened to the bank to exchange gold and silver for 
paper. So great became the throng of depositors, and so in- 
tense their eagerness, that there was quite a press and struggle 
at the bank door, and a ludicrous panic was awakened, as if 
there was danger of their not being admitted. An anecdote of 
the tune relates that one of the clerks, with an ominous smile, 
called out to the struggling multitude, " Have a little patience, 
my friends ; we mean to take all your money ;" an assertion 
disastrously verified in the sequel. 

Thus, by the simple establishment of a bank, Law and the 
Regent obtained pledges of confidence for the consmnmation of 
further and more complicated schemes, as yet hidden from the 
pubhc. In a httle whUe, the bank shares rose enormously, and 
the amount of its notes in cii'culation exceeded one hundred 
and ten millions of hvres. A subtle stroke of pohcy had ren- 
dered it popular with the aristocracy. Louis XIV. had several 
years previously uuposed an mcome tax of a tenth, giving his 
royal word that it should cease in 1717. This tax had been 
exceedingly irksome to the pri\aleged orders ; and in the present 
disastrous times they had dreaded an augmentation of it. In 
consequence of the successful operation of Law's scheme, how- 
ever., the tax was aboUshed, and now nothing was to be heard 
among the nobOity and clergy, but praises of the Eegent and 
the bank. 

Hitherto all had gone well, and all might have continued to 
go weU, had not the paper system been further expanded. 
But Law had yet the grandest part of his scheme to develop. 
He had to open his ideal world of speculation, his El Dorado 
of unbounded wealth. The English had brought the vast 
imaginary commerce of the South Seas in aid of their bank- 
ing operations. Law sought to bring, as an immense auxiliary 
of his bank, the whole trade of the Mississippi. Under this 
name was included not merely the river so called, but the vast 
region known as Louisiana, extending fi-oni north latitude 29° 
up to Canada in north latitude 40°. This country had been 
granted by Louis XIV. to the Sieur Crozat, but he had been 
induced to resign his patent. In conformity to the plea of 
Mr. Law, letters patent were granted in August, 1717, foi- the 
creation of a commercial company, which was to have the 



50 Tni^ CRAYON PAPERS. 

colonizing of tliis country, and the monopoly of its trade and 
resources, and of the beaver or fur trade with Canada. It was 
called the Western, but became better knoAvn as the Missis- 
sippi Company. The capital was fixed at one hundred milhons 
of livres, divided into shares, bearing an interest of four per 
cent, which were subscribed for in the pubhc securities. As 
the bank was to co-operate with the company, the Regent 
ordered that its bills should be received the same as coin, in 
all payments of the public revenue. Law was appointed chief 
director of this company, which was an exact copy of the Earl 
of Oxford's South Sea Company, set on foot in 1711, and which 
distracted aU England with the frenzy of speculation. In Uke 
mamier with the delusive picturings given in that memorable 
scheme of the sources of rich trade to be opened in the South 
Sea coimtries, Law held forth magnificent prospects of the 
fortunes to be made in colonizing Louisiana, which was repre- 
sented as a veritable land of promise, capable of yielding every 
variety of the most precious produce. Reports, too, were art- 
fully circidated, with great mystery, as if to the "chosen 
fcAv," of mines of gold and silver recently discovered in Loui- 
siana, and which would insure instant wealth to the early pur- 
chasers. These confidential whispers of course soon became 
public ; and were confirmed by travellers fresh from the Mis- 
sissippi, and doubtless bribed, who had ecen the mines in 
question, and declared them superior in richness to those of 
Mexico and Peru. Nay, more, ocular proof was frxnished to 
public creduhty, in ingots of gold conveyed to the mint, as if 
just brought from the mines of Louisiana. 

Extraordinary measures were adopted to force a colcni'^a- 
tion. An edict was issued to collect and transport settlers to 
the Mississippi. The poKce lent its aid. The streets and pri- 
sons of Paris, and of the provincial cities, were swept of mendi- 
cants and vagabonds of all lands, who were conveyed to Havre 
do Grace. About six thousand were crowded into ships, where 
no precautions had been taken for their health or acconmaoda- 
tion. Instriiments of all kinds proper for the working of 
mines were ostentatiously paraded in public, and put on board 
the vessels ; and the whole set sail for this fabled El Dorado, 
which was to prove the grave of the greater part of its 
wretched colonists. 

D'Anguesseavi, the chancellor, a man of probity and integ- 
rity, still lifted his voice against the paper system of Law, and 
his project of colonization, and was eloquent and prophetic in 



TUE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 51 

picturing the evils they were calculated to produce ; the pri- 
vate distress and public degradation; the corruption of morals 
and manners ; the triumph of knaves and schemers ; the ruin 
of fortunes, and downfall of families. He was incited more 
and more to tliis opposition by the Duke de Noailles, the Min- 
ister of Finance, who was jealous of the growing ascendancy 
of Law over the mind of the Regent, but was less honest than 
the chancellor in his opposition. The Regent was excessively 
annoyed by the difficulties they conjured up in the way of his 
darling schemes of finance, and the countenance they gave to 
the opposition of parliament ; which body, disgusted more and 
more with the abuses of the regency, and the system of Law, 
had gone so far as to carry its remonstrances to the very foot 
of the thi'one. 

He determined to reheve himself from these two ministers, 
who, either through honesty or policy, interfered with all his 
plans. Accordingly, on the 28th of January, 1718, he dis- 
missed the chancellor from office, and exiled him to his estate 
in the country ; and shortly afterward removed the Duke de 
NoaiUes from the administration of the finances. 

The opposition of parhament to the Regent and his measures 
was carried on with increasing violence. That body aspired to 
an equal authority with the Regent in the administration of 
affairs, and pretended, by its decree, to suspend an edict of 
the regency, ordering a new coinage and altering the value of 
the cuiTency. But its chief hostility was levelled against 
Law, a foreigner and a heretic, and one who was considered 
by a majority of the members in the light of a malefactor. In 
fact, so far was this hostihty carried, that secret measiires were 
taken to investigate his malversations, and to collect evidence 
against him; and it was resolved in parliament that, should 
the testimony collected justify their suspicions, they would 
have him seized and brought before them ; would give him a 
brief trial, and if convicted, would hang him in the court- 
yard of the palace, and throAV open the gates after the execu-i 
tion, that the pubhc might behold his corpse ! 

Law received intimation of the danger hanging over him^ 
and was in terrible trepidation. He took refuge in the Palais 
Royal, the residence of the Regent, and implored his protec- 
tion. The Regent himself was embarrassed by the sturdy 
opposition of parliament, which contemplated nothing less 
than a decree reversing most of his public measures, espe- 
cially those of finance. His indecision kept Law for a time in 



52 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

an agony of terror and suspense. Finally, by assembling a 
board of justice, and bringing to his aid the absolute authority 
of the King, he triumphed over parhament and reheved Law 
from his dread of being hanged. 

The system now went on with flowing sail. The Western or 
Mississippi Company, being identified with the bank, rapidly 
increased in power and privileges. One monopoly after an- 
other was granted to it ; the trade of the Indian seas ; the slave 
trade with Senegal and Guinea ; the farming of tobacco ; the 
national coinage, etc. Each new privilege was made a pretext 
for issuing more bills, and caused an immense advance in the 
price of stock. At length, on the 4th of December, 1718, the 
Eegent gave the establishment the imposing title of The Royal 
Bank, and proclaimed that he had effected the purchase of aU 
the shares, the proceeds of which he had added to its capital. 
This measure seemed to shock the public feeling more than 
any other connected with the system, and roused the indigna- 
tion of parliament. The French nation had been so accus- 
tomed to attach an idea of every tiling noble, lofty, and mag- 
nificent, to the royal name and person, especially during the 
stately and sumptuous reign of Louis XIV., that they could 
not at first tolerate the idea of royalty being in any degree 
mingled with matters of traffic and finance, and the king 
being in a manner a banker. It was one of the downward 
steps, however, by which royalty lost its illusive splendor in 
France, and became gradually cheapened in the pubhc mind. 

Arbitrary measures now began to be taken to force the 
bills of the bank into artificial currency. On the 27th of 
December appeared an order in council, forbidding, under 
severe penalties, the payment of ar.y sum above six hundred 
Mvres in gold or silver. This decree rendered bank bills neces- 
sary in all transactions of purchase and sale, and called for a 
new emission. The prohibition was occasionally evaded or 
opposed; confiscations weie the consequence; informers were 
rewarded, and spies and traitors began to spring up in aU the 
domestic walks of life. 

The worst effect of this illusive system was the mania for 
gain, or rather for gambling in stocks, that now seized upon 
the whole nation. Under the exciting effects of lying reports, 
and the forcing effects of government decrees, the shares of 
the company went on rising in value until they reached 
tlurteen himdred per cent. Nothing was now spoken of but 
the price of shares, and the immense fortunes suddenly mads 



THE GREAT MISSIStilFPI BUBBLE. 53 

by lucky speculators. Those whom Law had deluded used 
every means to delude others. The most extravagant dreams 
were indulged, concerning the wealth to flow in upon the com- 
pany from its colonies, its trade, and its various monopolies. 
It is true, nothing as yet had been realized, nor could in some 
time be reaUzed, from these distant sources, even if pro- 
ductive ; but the imaginations of speculators are ever in the 
advance, and their conjectures are immediately converted into 
facts. Lying reports now flew from mouth to mouth, of sure 
avenues to fortune suddenly thrown open. The more extra- 
vagant the fable, the more readily was it beheved. To doubt 
was to awaken anger, or incur ridicule. In a time of public 
infatuation, it reqmres no small exercise of courage to doubt a 
popular fallacy. 

Paris now became the centre of attraction for the adven- 
turous and the avaricious, who flocked to it, not merely from 
the provinces, but from neighboring countries. A stock ex- 
change was established in a house in the Eue Quincampoix, 
and became immediately the gathering place of stock-jobbers. 
The exchange opened at seven o'clock, with the beat of drum 
and sound of bell, and closed at night with the same signals. 
Guards were stationed at each end of the street, to maintain 
order, and exclude carriages and horses. The whole street 
swarmed throughout the day like a bee-hive. Bargains of all 
kinds were seized upon with avidity. Shares of stock passed 
from hand to hand, mounting in value, one knew not why. 
Fortunes were made in a moment, as if by magic ; and every 
lucky bargain prompted those around to a more desperate 
throw of the die. The fever went on, increasing in intensity 
as the day declined ; and when the drum beat, and the beU 
fang, at night, to close the exchange, there were exclamations 
of impatience and despair, as if the wheel of fortune had sud- 
denly been stopped when about to make its luckiest evolution. 

To engulf all classes in this ruinous vortex. Law now split 
the shares of fifty millions of stock each into one hundred 
shares; thus, as in the splitting of lottery tickets, accommo- 
dating the venture to the humblest purse. Society was thus 
stirred iip to its very dregs, and adventurers of the lowest 
order hurried to the stock market. All honest, industrious 
pursuits, and modest gains, were now despised. Wealth was 
to be obtained instantly, without labor, and without stint. 
Tlie upper classes were as base in their venality as the lower. 
The highest and most powerful nobles, abandoning all gone- 



g4 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

rous pursuits and lofty aims, engaged in the vile scuflae for 
gain. They were even baser than the lower classes ; for some 
of them, who were members of the coxmcil of the regency, 
abused their station and their influence, and promoted mea- 
sm-es by which shares arose while in their hands, and they 
made immense profits. 

The Duke de Bourbon, the Prince of Conti, the Dukes de la 
Force and D'Antin were among the foremost of these illustrious 
stock-jobbers. They were nicknamed the Mississippi Lords, 
and they smiled at the sneering title. In fact, the usual distinc- 
tions of society had lost their consequence, under the reign 
of this new passion. Bank, talent, mihtary fame, no longer 
inspired deference. All respect for others, all self-respect, 
were forgotten in the mercenary struggle of the stock-market. 
Even prelates and ecclesiastical corporations, forgetting their 
true objects of devotion, mingled among the votaries of Mam- 
mon. They were not behind those who wielded the civil 
power in fabricating ordinances suited to their avaricious pur- 
poses. Theological decisions forthwith appeared, in which the 
anathema launched by the Church against usury, was con- 
veniently construed as not extendmg to the traffic in bank 
shares ! 

The Abbe Dubois entered into the mysteries of stock-jobbing 
with all the zeal of an apostle, and enriched himself by the 
spoils of the credulous; and he continually drew large sums 
from Law, as considerations for his political influence. Faith- 
less to his country, in the course of his gambling speculations 
he transferred to England a great amoimt of specie, which 
had been paid into the royal treasury ; thus contributing to 
the subsequent dearth of the precious metals. 

TAe female sex participated in this sordid frenzy. Prin- 
cesses of the blood, and ladies of the highest nobility, were 
among the most rapacious of stock-jobbers. The Regent 
seemed to have the riches of Croesus at his command, and 
lavished money by hundreds of thousands upon his female 
relatives and favorites, as well as upon his roues, the dissolute 
companions of his debauches. "My son," writes the Re- 
gent's mother, in her correspondence, ' ' gave me shares to the 
amount of two millions, which I distributed among my houset 
hold. The King also took several millions for his own house- 
hold. All the royal family have had them; all the children 
and grandchildren of France, and the princes of the blood." 

Luxury and extravagancQ_kept pace with this sudden infla- 



THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 55 

tion of fancied wealth. The hereditary palaces of nobles were 
piilJed down, and rebuilt on a scale of augmented splendor. 
Entertainments were given, of incredible cost and magnificence. 
Never before had been such display in houses, furniture, eqiii- 
pages, and amusements. This was particularly the case among 
persons of the lower ranks, who had suddenly become possessed 
of milhons. Ludicrous anecdotes are related of some of these 
upstarts. One, who had just launched a splendid carriage, 
when about to use it for the first time, instead of getting in at 
the door, moimted, through habitude, to his accustomed place 
behind. Some ladies of quahty, seeing a well-dressed woman 
covered with diamonds, but whom nobody knew, alight from a 
very handsome carriage, inquired who she was of the footman. 
He rephed, with a sneer : " It is a lady who has recently tum- 
bled from a garret into this carriage." Mr. Law's domestics 
were said to become in hke manner suddenly enriched by the 
cnimbs that fell from his table. His coachman, having made 
his fortune, retired from his service. Mr. Law requested him 
to procure a coachman in his place. He appeared the next day 
with two, whom he pronounced equally good, and told Mr. 
Law: "Take which of them you choose, and I will take the 
other!" 

Nor were these novi Jiomini treated with the distance and 
disdain they would formerly have experienced from the haughty 
aristocracy of France. The pride of the old noblesse had been 
stifled by the stronger instinct of avarice. They rather sought 
the intimacy and confidence of these lucky upstarts ; and it has 
been observed that a nobleman would gladly take his seat at 
the table of the fortunate lacquey of yesterday, in hopes of 
learning from liim the secret of growing rich ! 

Law now went about with a countenance radiant with suc- 
cess and apparently dispensing wealth on every side. ' ' He is 
admirably skilled in all that relates to finance," writes the 
Duchess of Orleans, the Eegent's mother, "and has put the 
affairs of the state in such good order that all the king's debts 
have been paid. He is so much rim after that he has no repose 
night or day. A duchess even kissed his hand pubUcly. If a 
duchess can do this, what wiU other ladies do?" 

Wherever he went, liis path, we are told, was beset by a 
sordid throng, who waited to see him pass, and sought to ob- 
tain the favor of a word, a nod, or smile, as if a mere glance 
from him would bestow fortune. When at home, his house 
was absolutely besieged by furious candidates for fortune. 



66 Tllh] CRAYON PAPERS. 

" They forced the doors," says the Duke de St. Simon; "they 
scaled his windows from the garden; they made their way 
into his cabinet down the cliimney 1" 

The same venal court was paid by all classes to his family. 
The highest ladies of the court vied with each other in mean- 
nesses to purchase the lucrative friendship of ]\Irs. Law and her 
daughter. They waited upon them with as much assiduity and 
adulation as if they had been princesses of the blood. The 
Regent one day expressed a desire that some duchess should 
accompany his daughter to Genoa. " My Lord," said some one 
present, ' ' if you would have a choice from among the duchesses, 
you need but send to Mrs. Law's ; you will find them all assem- 
bled there." 

The wealth of Law rapidly increased with the expansion of 
the bubble. In the couree of a few months he purchased four- 
teen titled estates, paying for them in paper ; and the pubhc 
hailed these sudden and vast acquisitions of landed property as 
so many proofs of the soundness of his system. In one instance 
he met with a shrewd bargainer, who had not the general faith 
in his paper money. The President de Novion insisted on being 
paid for an estate in hard coin. Law accordingly brought the 
amount, four hundred thousand livres, in sjDecie, saying, with 
a sarcastic smile, that he preferred paying in money as its 
weight rendered it a mere mcumbrance. As it happened, the 
president could give no clear title to the land, and the money 
had to be refunded. He paid it back in paper, which Law 
dared not refuse, lest he should depreciate it in the market. 

The course of illusory credit went on triumphantly for eigh- 
teen months. Law had neai'ly fulfilled one of his promises, for 
the greater part of the pubhc debt had been paid off; but how 
paid? In bank shai-es, which had been trumped up several 
hundred per cent above their value, and wliich were to vanish 
like smoke in the hands of the holders. 

One of the most striking attributes of Law was the impertur- 
bable assurance and self-possession with which he replied to 
every objection, and found a solution for every problem. He 
had the dexterity of a juggler in evading difliculties; and what 
was peculiar, made figures themselves, Avhich are the very 
elements of exact demonstration, the means to dazzle and be- 
wilder. 

Toward the 'latter end of 1719 the Mississippi scheme had 
reached its highest point of glory. Half a milhon of strangers 
had crowded into Paris, in quest of fortune. The hotels and 



TTIE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 57 

lodging-houseR were overflowing ; lodgings were procured with 
excessive difficulty; granaries were turned into bed-rooms; 
provisions had risen enormously in price; splendid houses 
were multiplying on every side ; the streets were crowded with 
carriages ; above a thousand new equipages had been launched. 

On the eleventh of December, Law obtained another proliibi- 
tory decree, for the purpose of sweeping all the remaining 
specie in circulation into the bank. By this it was forbidden 
to make any payment in silver above ten livres, or in gold 
above three hundred. 

The repeated decrees of tliis nature, the object of which was 
to depreciate the value of gold, and increase the illusive credit 
of paper, began to awaken doubts of a system which required 
such bolstering. Capitalists gradually awoke from their be- 
wilderment. Sound and able financiers consulted together, and 
agi'ced to make common cause agamst this contiaual expansion 
of a paper system. The shares of the bank and of the company 
began to decline in value. Wary men took the alarm, and 
began to realize, a word now first brought into use, to express 
the conversion of ideal property into something real. 

The Prince of Conti, one of the most prominent and grasping 
of the Mississippi lords, was the first to give a blow to the 
credit of the bank. There was a mixture of ingratitude in his 
conduct that characterized the venal baseness of the times. 
He had received from time to time enormous sums from Law, 
as the price of his influence and patronage. His avarice had 
increased with every acquisition, until Law was compelled to 
refuse one of his exactions. In revenge the prince immediately 
sent such an amount of paper to the bank to be cashed, that i'k 
required four wagons to bring away the sflver, and he had thq 
meanness to loU out of the window of his hotel and jest and 
exult as it was trundled into his port cochere. 

This was the signal for other drains of like nature. The 
Enghsh and Dutch merchants, who had purchased a great 
amount of bank paper at low prices, cashed them at the bank, 
and carried the money out of the country. Other strangers 
did the like, thus draining the kingdom of its specie, and leav- 
mg paper in its place. 

The Regent, perceiving these symptoms of decay in the sys- 
tem, sought to restore it to public confidence, by conferring 
marks of confidence upon its author. He accordingly resolved 
to make Law Comptroller General of the Finances of France. 
There was a material obstacle in his way. LaAV was a ProteS' 



58 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

tant, and the Regent, unscrupulous as he was himself, did not 
dare publicly to outrage the severe edicts which Louis XIV., 
in his bigot days, had fulminated against all heretics. Law 
soon let him know that there would be no diflBculty on that 
head. He was ready at any moment to abjure his rehgion in 
the way of business. For decency's sake, however, it was 
judged proper he should previously be convinced and con- 
verted. A ghostly instructor was soon found, ready to ac- 
comphsh his conversion in the shortest possible time. This 
was the Abbe Tencin, a profligate creature of the profligate 
Dubois, and like him working his way to ecclesiastical pro- 
motion and temporal wealth, by the basest means. 

Under the instrvictions of the Abbe Tencin, Law soon mas- 
tered the mysteries and dogmas of the Cathohc doctrine ; and, 
after a brief course of ghostly training, declared himself 
thoroughly convinced and converted. To avoid the sneers 
and jests of the Pai*isian pubhc, the ceremony of abjuration 
took place at Melun. Law made a pious present of one hun- 
dred thousand livres to the Church of St. Eoque, and the Abbe 
Tencin was rewarded for his edifying labors by sundry shares 
and bank bills ; which he shrewdly took care to convert into 
cash, having as httle faith in the system as in the piety of his 
new convert. A more grave and moral commimity might 
have been outraged by this scandalous farce ; but the Parisians 
laughed at it with their usual levity, and contented themselves 
with makmg it the subject of a number of songs and epigrams. 

Law now being orthodox in his faith, took out letters of 
naturahzation, and having thus surmounted the mtervening 
obstacles, was elevated by the Regent to the post of Comp- 
troller General. So accustomed had the community become 
to all juggles and transmutations in this hero of finance, that 
no one seemed shocked or astonished at his sudden elevation. 
On the contrary, being now considered perfectly established in 
place and power, he became more than ever the object of venal 
adoration. Men of rank and dignity thronged his antecham- 
ber, waiting patiently their turn for an audience; and titled 
dames demeaned themselves to take the front seats of the 
caiTiages of his wife and daughter, as if they had been riding 
with princesses of the royal blood. LaAV^s head grew giddy 
with his elevation, and he began to aspire after aristocratical 
distinction. There was to be a court ball, at which several of 
the young noblemen were to dance in a ballet with the youth- 
ful King. Law requested that his son might be admitted into 



THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 59 

the ballet, and the Regent consented. The young scions Ot 
nobility, hoAvever, were indignant and scouted the "intrucdng 
upstart." Their more worldly parents, fearful of displeasing 
the modern Midas, reprimanded them in vain. The striplings 
had not yet imbibed the passion for gain, and still held to their 
high blood. The son of the banker received shghts and annoyv 
ances on all sides, and the public applauded them for their 
spirit. A fit of illness came opportunely to reheve the youth 
from an honor which would have cost him a world of vexations 
and affronts. 

In Febiniary, 1720, shortly after Law's instalment in oflSce, a 
decree came out imiting the bank to the India Company, by 
which last name the whole estabUshment was now known. 
The decree stated that as the bank was royal, the King was 
boimd to make good the value of its bills ; that he committed 
to the company the government of the bank for fifty years, 
and sold to it fifty miUions of stock belonging to him, for nine 
hundred millions; a simple advance of eighteen hundred per 
cent. The decree farther declared, in the King's name, that 
he would never draw on the bank, until the value of his drafts 
had first been lodged in it by his receivers general. 

The bank, it was said, had by this time issued notes to the 
amoTuit of one thousand miUions ; being more paper than all 
the banks of Europe were able to circulate. To aid its credit, 
the receivers of the revenue were directed to take bank notes 
of the sub-receivers. All payments, also, of one hundred livres 
and upward were ordered to be made in bank notes. These 
compulsory measures for a short time gave a false credit to the 
bank, which proceeded to discount merchants' notes, to lend 
money on jewels, plate, and other valuables, as well as on 
mortgages. 

StiU farther to force on the system an edict next appeared, 
forbidding any individual, or any corporate body, civil or 
rehgious, to hold in possession more than five hundi^ed hvresj 
in current coin; that is to say, about seven louis-d'ors; the 
ralue of the louis-d'or in paper being, at the time, seventy -two 
hvres. All the gold and silver they might have above this 
pittance was to be brought to the royal bank, and exchanged 
either for shares or bills. 

As confiscation was the penalty of disobedience to this 
decree, and informers were assured a share of the forfeitiu*es, 
a bounty was in a manner held out to domestic spies and 
tiuitors ; and the most odious scrutmy was awakened into tha 



go I THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

pecuniary affairs of families and individuals. The very confi- 
dence between friends and relatives was impaired, and all the 
domestic ties and virtues of society were threatened, until a 
general sentiment of indignation broke forth, that compelled 
the Regent to rescind the odious decree. Lord Stairs, the 
British ambassador, speaking of the system of espionage en- 
couraged by this edict, observed that it was impossible to 
doubt that Law was a thorough Catholic, since he had thus 
established the inquisition, after having already proved tran- 
substantiation, by changing specie into paper. 

Equal abuses had taken place under the colonizmg project. 
In his thousand expedients to amass capital, Law had sold 
parcels of land in Mississippi, at the rate of three thousand hvi'es 
for a league square. Many capitalists had purchasea estates 
large enough to constitute almost a prmcipality ; the only evil 
was. Law had sold a property which he could not; deliver. 
The agents of police, who aided in recruiting the raniia of the 
colonists, had been guilty of scandalous impositions. Under 
pretence of taking up mendicants and vagabonds, they had 
scoured the streets at night, seizing upon honest mechanics, or 
their sons, and hurrying them to their crimping-houses, for 
the sole purpose of extorting money from them as a ransom. 
The populace was roused to indignation by these abuses. The 
officers of police were mobbed in the exercise of their odious 
functions, and several of them were killed ; which put an end 
to this flagrant abuse of power. 

In March, a most exti'aordinary decree of the council fixed 
the price of shares of the India Company at nine thousand 
livres each. All ecclesiastical communities and hospitals were 
now prohibited from investing money at interest, in anything 
but India stock. With aU these props and stays, the system 
continued to totter. How could it be otherwise, under a des- 
potic government, that could alter the value of propei-ty at 
every moment? The very compulsory measures that were 
adopted to establish the credit of the bank hastened its fall; 
plainly showing there v/as a want of sohd security. Law 
caused pamphlets to be published, setting foi-th, in eloquent 
language, the vast profits that must accinie to holders of 
the stock, and the impossibility of the King's ever doing it any 
harm. On the very back of these assertions came forth an 
edict of the Kmg, dated the 22d of May, wherein, under pre> 
tence of having reduced the value of his coin, it was declared 
necessary to reduce the value of liis bank notes one half, and 



THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. Q\ 

of the India shares from nine thousand to five thousand 
livres. 

Tills decree came like a clap of thunder upon shareholders. 
They found one half of the pretended value of the paper in 
their hands annihilated in an instant ; and what certainty had 
they with respect to the other half? The rich considered them- 
selves ruined ; those in humbler circumstances looked forward 
to abject beggary. 

The parliament seized the occasion to stand forth as the 
protector of the public, and refused to register the deci-ee. It 
gained the credit of compelling the Regent to retrace his step, 
though it is more probable he yielded to the universal burst of 
pubhc astonishment and reprobation. On the 27th of May the 
edict was revoked, and bank-biUs were restored to their pre- 
vious value. But the fatal blow had been struck ; the delusion 
was at an end. Government itself had lost all public confi- 
dence, equally with the bank it had engendered, and which its 
own arbitrary acts had broiight into discredit. "All Paris," 
says the RegentJs mother, in her letters, "has been mourning 
at the cursed decree which Law has persuaded my son to 
make. I have received anonymous letters, stating that I have 
nothing to fear on my own accomit, but that my son shall be 
pursued with fire and sword." 

The Regent now endeavored to avert the odimn of his ruin- 
ous schemes from himself. He affected to have suddenly lost 
confidence in. Law, and on the 29th of May, discharged him 
from his employ as Comptroller General, and stationed a Swiss 
guard of sixteen men in his house. He even refused to see 
him, when, on the following day, he applied at the portal of 
the Palais Royal for admission: but having played off this 
farce before the pubhc, he admitted Mm secretly the same 
night, by a private door, and continued as before to co-operate 
with him in his financial schemes. 

On the first of June, the Regent issued a decree, permitting 
persons to have as much money as they pleased in their pos- 
session. Few, however, were in a state to benefit by this 
permission. There was a run upon the bank, but a royal 
ordinance immediately suspended payment, until farther or- 
ders. To relieve the public mind, a city stock was created, of 
twenty-five millions, bearing an interest of two and a half per 
cent, for winch bank notes were taken in exchange, llae bank 
notes thus withdrawn from circulation, were publicly burned 
before the Hotel de Ville. The public, however, had lost con- 



ea THE en A YON PAPERS. 

fidence in everything and everybody, and suspected fraud and 
collusion ill those who pretended to burn the bills. 

A general confusion noAV took place in the financial world. 
FaniiUes Avho had lived in opulence, found themselves sud- 
denly leduced to uidigence. iSchemers Avho had been revelling 
in the delusion oc princely fortune, found their estates vanish- 
ing into thin air. Those who had any property remaining, 
sought to secure it against reverses. Cautious persons found 
there was no safety for pi-operty in a country where the coin 
was contmuaUy shifting in value, and where a despotism was 
exercised over pubhc securities, and even over the private 
purses of individuals. They began to send theii- effects into 
other countries; when lo! on the 20th of June a royal edict 
commanded them to brmg back thek effects, under penalty of 
forfeiting twice their value ; and forbade them, under like pen- 
alty, from investing their money in foreign stocks. Tliis was 
soon followed by another decree, forbidding any one to retain 
precious stones in his possession, or to sell them to foreigners ; 
all must be deposited in the bank, in exchange for depreciating 
paper ! 

Execrations were now poured out on all sides, against Law, 
and menaces of vengeance. What a contrast, in a short time, 
to the venal incense that was offered up to him! "Tliis per- 
son," writes the Regent's mother, "who was formerly wor- 
shipped as a god, is now not sure of liis life. It is astonishing 
how greatly terrified he is. He is as a dead man ; he is pale as 
a sheet, and it is said he can never get over it. My son is 
not dismayed, though he is threatened on all sides ; and is very 
much amused with Law's terrors. " 

About the midcUe of July the last grand attempt was made 
by Law and the Eegent, to keep up the system, and provide 
for the immense emission of paper. A decree was fabricated, 
giving the India Company the entire monopoly of commerce, 
on condition that it would, in the course of a year, reimburse 
six hundred millions of livres of its bUls, at the rate of fifty 
millions per month. 

On the 17th this decree was sent to parliament to be regis- 
tered. It at once raised a storm of opposition in that assembly ; 
and a vehement discussion took place. While that was going 
on, a disastrous scene was passing out of doors. 

The calamitous effects of the system had reached the hum- 
blest concerns of human life. Provisions had risen to an 
enormous price; paper money was refused at all the shops; the 



THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLK. (53 

people had not wherewithal to buy bread. It had been found 
absolutely indispensable to relax a httle from the suspension of 
specie payments, and to allow small sums to be scantily ex- 
changed tor paper. The doors of the bank and the neighboring 
streets wei-e immediately thronged with a famishing multitude 
seekmg cash for banii -notes of ten hvres. So great was the 
press and struggle that several persons were stifled and 
crushed to death. The mob carried three of the bodies to the 
court-yard of the Palais Royal. Some cried for the Regent to 
come forth and behold the effect of his system; others de- 
manded the death of Law, the impostor, who had brought this 
misery and ruin upon the nation. 

The moment was critical, the popular fury was rising to a 
tempest, when Le Blanc, the Secretary of State, stepped forth. 
He had previously sent for the military, and now only sought 
to gain time. Singling out six or seven stout fellows, who 
seemed to be the ringleaders of the mob: "My good fellows," 
said he, calmly, ' ' carry away these bodies and place them in 
some church, and then come back quickly to me for youi' pay." 
They immediately obeyed; a kind of funeral procession was 
formed; the ariival of troops dispersed those who hngered 
behind ; and Paris was probably saved from an insurrection. 

About ten o'clock in the morning, all being quiet. Law ven- 
tured to go in liis carriage to the Palais Royal. He was 
saluted with cries and curses, as he p?tssed along the streets ; 
and he reached the Palais Royal in a terrible fright. The 
Regent amused himself with his fears, but retained him with 
him, and sent off his cari'iage, whicli was assailed by tlie mob, 
pelted ^Wth stones, and the srlasses shivered. The news of this 
outrage was communicated to parliament in the midst of a 
furious discussion of the decree for the commercial monopoly. 
The first president, who had been absent for a short time, re- 
entered, and communicated the tidings in a whimsical couplet : 

" Mespipiirs. IVIessipursI honne nouvelle! 
Le carrosse de Law est reduite en carrelle !" 

"Opntlpm^n. Oentlempn! good npws! 
The carriage of Law is sliivered to atoms!" 

Tlie members sprang up with jov; "And Law!" exclaimed 
they, "has he been torn to pieces?" The presirlent was igno- 
rant of the result of the tumult; whereupon the debate was 
cut short, the decree rejected, and the house adjourned: the 
members hurrying to learn the particulars. Such was the 



64 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

levity with which pubhc affairs were treated at that dissohite 
and disastrous period. 

On the following day there was an ordinance from the king, 
prohibiting all popular assemblages ; and troops were stationed 
at various points, and in all public places. The regiment of 
guards was ordered to hold itself in readiness ; and the musque- 
teers to be at their hotels, with their horses ready saddled. A 
number of small offices were opened, where jjcople might cash 
small notes, though with great delay and difficulty. An edict 
was also issued declaring that whoever should refuse to take 
bank-notes in the course of trade should forfeit double thd 
amount ! 

The continued and vehement opposition of parliament to the 
whole delusive system of finance, had been a constant source 
of annoyance to the Regent ; but this obstinate rejection of his 
last grand expedient of a commercial monopoly, was not to be 
tolerated. He determined to punish that intractable body. 
The Abbe Dubois and Law suggested a simple mode ; it was to 
suppress the parliament altogether, being, as they observed, so 
far from useful, that it was a constant unpediment to the 
march of public affairs. The Regent was half inclmed to listen 
to their advice ; but upon calmer consideration, and the advice 
of friends, he adopted a more moderate course. On the 20th 
of July, early in the morning, all the doors of the parliament- 
house were taken possession of by troops. Others were sent to 
surround the house of the first president, and others to the 
houses of the vai-ious members ; who were all at first in great 
alarm, until an order from the king was put into their hands, 
to render themselves at Pontoise, in the course of two days, to 
which place the parhament was thus suddenly and arbitrarOy 
transferred. 

Tliis despotic act, says Voltaire, would at any other time 
have caused an insurrection; but one half of the Parisians 
were occupied by their ruin, and the other half by their fancied 
riches, which were soon to vanish. The president and mcm- 
bc^rs of parliament acquiesced in the mandate without a mur- 
mur ; they even went as if on a party of pleasure, and made 
every preparation to lead a joyous life in their exile. The 
iuus(iuetcers, who held possession of the vacated parliament- 
house, a gay corps of fashionable yoimg fellows, amused them- 
selves with making songs and pasquinades, at the expense of 
the exiled legislators ; and at length, to pass away time, formed 
themselves into a mock parliament; elected their ircriuCiitp, 



. THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 65 

"ings, ministers, and advocates ; took their seats in due f orm^ 
arraigned a cat at their bar, in place of the Sieur Law, and after 
giving it a " fair trial, " condemned it to be hanged. In this 
manner pubhc affairs and public institutions were lightly 
tui-ned to jest. 

As to the exiled parliament, it lived gayly and luxuriously at 
Pontoise, at the public expense ; for the Regent had furnished 
funds, as usual, with a lavish hand. The first president had 
the mansion of the Duke de Bouillon put at his disposal, ready 
furnished, with a vast and delightfvil garden on the borders of 
a river. There he kept open house to all the members of par- 
hament. Several tables were spread every day, all furnished 
luxuriously and splendidly; the most exquisite wines and 
liqueurs, the choicest fruits and refreshments, of all kinds, 
abounded. A nmnber of small chariots for one and two horses 
were always at hand, for such ladies and old gentlemen as 
wished to take an airing after dinner, and card and billiard 
tables for such as chose to amuse themselves in that way until 
supper. The sister and the daughter of the first president did 
the honors of the house, and he himself presided there with an 
air of great ease, hospitalitj^, and magnificence. It became a 
party of pleasure to drive from Paris to Pontoise, which was 
six leagues distant, and partake of the amusements and festivi- 
ties of the place. Business was openly slighted ; nothing was 
thought of but amusement. The Regent and his government 
were laughed at, and made the subjects of continual pleasant- 
ries; while the enormous expenses incurred by this idle and 
lavish course of life, more than doubled the liberal sums pro- 
vided. This was the way in which the parliament resented 
their exile. 

During all this time, the system was getting more and more 
involved. The stock exchange had some time previously been 
removed to the Place Vendome; but the tumvilt and noise be- 
coming intolerable to the residents of that polite quarter, aud 
ospecially to the chancellor, whose hotel was there, the Prince 
and Princess Carignan, both deep gamblei-s in Mississippi 
stock, offered the extensive garden of the Hotel de Soissons 
as a rallying-place for the worshippers of Mammon. Tlie offer 
was accepted. A number of barracks were immediately 
erected in the garden, as offices for the stock-brokere, and r.n 
order was obtained from the Regent, under pretext of police 
regulations, that no bargain should be valid unless concluded 
in these barracks. The rent of them immediately mounted to 



6G TUE CRAYON PAPERS. 

a hundred livres a month foi' each, and the whole yielded these 
noble proprictoi-s an ignoble revenue of half a million oi livres. 

Tlie niiuiia for gain, however, was now at an end. A uni- 
versal panic succeeded. '' t:auve qui peut!^^ was the watch- 
word. Every one was anxious to exchange falling paper for 
somethmg of mtrmsic and permanent value. Since money 
was not to be had, jewels, precious stones, plate, porcelain, 
trinkets of gold and silver, all commanded any price in paper. 
Land was bouglit at fifty years' purchase, and he esteemed 
himself happy who could get it even at this price. Monopolies 
now became the rage aiuong the noble holders of paper. The 
Duke de la Force boiight up nearly all the tallow, grease, and 
soap ; others the coffee and spices ; others hay and oats. For- 
eign exchanges were almost impracticable. The debts of 
Dutch and English merchants were paid in this fictitious 
money, all the coin ot the realm having disappeared. All the 
relations of debtor and creditor were confounded. With one 
thousand crowns one might j)ay a debt of eighteen thousand 
livres ! 

The Regent's mother, who once exulted in the affluence of 
bank paper, now wrote in a very difl:erent tone : "I have 
often wished," said she in her letters, "that these bank 
notes were in the depts of the infernal regions. They have 
given my son more trouble than relief. Nobody in France 
has a penny. * * -* My son was once popular, but since the ar- 
rival of this cursed Law, he is hated more and more. Not a 
week passes, without my receiving letters filled with fright- 
ful threats, and speaking of him as a tyrant. I have just 
received one threatening liim with poison. When I showed 
it to him, he did nothing but laugh." 

In the meantime, Law was dismayed by the increasing 
troubles, and terrified at the tempest ho had raised. J3e was 
not a man of real courage; and fearing for his personal 
safety, from popular tumult, or the despair of ruined indi- 
viduals, he again took refuge in the palace of the Regent. 
The latter, as usual, amused himself with his terrors, and 
tuHK^d every new disaster into a jest; but he too began to 
think of his own security. 

In pursuing the schemes of Law, he had no doubt cal- 
culated to carry through his term of government with ease 
and splendor; and to enrich himself, his connexions, and his 
favorites; and had hoped that the catastrophe of the system 
would not take place until after the expiration of the regency. 



THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 67 

He now saw his mistake; that it was impossible much 
longer to prevent an explosion; and he determined at once 
to get Law out oi the way, and than to charge him with 
the whole tissue of delusions of this paper alchemy. He ac- 
cordingly took occasion of the recall of parhament in De- 
cember, 1720, to suggest to Law the policy of his avoiding 
an encounter with that hostile and exasperated body. Law 
needed no urging to the measure. His only desire was to 
escape from Paris and its tempestuous populace. Two days be- 
fore the return of parliament he took his sudden and secret 
departm-e. He travelled in a chaise bearing the arms of the 
Regent, and was escorted by a kind of safeguard of servants, 
in the duke's hvery. His first place of refuge was an estate 
of the Regent's, about six leagues from Paris, from whence he 
pushed forward to Bruxelles. 

As soon as Law was fairly out of the way, the Duke of 
Orleans smnmoned a council of the regency, and informed 
them that they were assembled to dehberate on the state of 
the finances, and the affairs of the India Company. Accord- 
ingly La Houssaye, Comptroller General, rendered a perfectly 
clear statement, by which it appeared that there were bank 
biUs in circulation to the amount of two milliards, seven 
himdred millions of Uvres, without any evidence that this 
enoi-mous sima had been emitted in virtue of any ordinance 
from the general assembly of the India Company, which alone 
had the right to authorize such emissions. 

The council was astonished at this disclosure, and looked 
to the Regent for explanation. Pushed to the extreme, the 
Regent avowed that Law had emitted bills to the amount of 
twelve hundred millions beyond what had been fixed by or- 
dinances, and in contradiction to express prohibitions; that 
the thing being done, he, the Regent, had legalized or rather 
covered the transaction, by decrees ordering such emissions, 
which decrees he had antedated. 

A' stormy scene ensued between the Regent and the Duke 
de Bourbon, httle to the credit of either, both having been 
deeply unphcated in the cabalistic operations of the system. 
In fact, the several members of the council had been among 
the most venal "beneficiaries" of the scheme, and had inter- 
ests at stake which they were anxious to secure. From all 
the circumstances of the case, I am inclined to think that 
others were more to blame than Law, for the disastrous effects 
of his financial projects. His bank, had it been confined to 



68 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

its original limits, and left to the control of its own inter- 
nal regulations, might have gone on prosperously, and been 
of great benefit to the nation. It was an institution fitted 
for a free country; but unfortunately it was subjected to 
the control of a despotic government, that could, at its pleas- 
ure, alter the value of the specie within its vaults, and com- 
pel tlie most extravagant expansions of its paper circulation. 
The vital prnaciple of a bank is security in the regularity of 
its operations, and the inunediate convertibility of its paper 
into coin; and what confidence could be reposed in an insti- 
tution or its paper promises, when the sovereign could at 
any moment centuple those promises in the market, and seize 
upon aU the money in the bank? The compulsory measures 
used, likewise, to force bank notes into currency, against the 
judgment of the public, was fatal to the system; for credit 
must be free and uncontrolled as the common air. The Re- 
gent was the evil spirit of the system, that forced Law on to 
an expansion of his paper curency far beyond what he had 
ever dreamed of. He it was that in a manner compelled the 
unlucky projector to devise all kinds of collater'al companies 
and monopohes, by which to raise funds to meet the con- 
stantly and enormously increasing emissions of shares and 
notes. Law was but like a poor conjuror in the hands of a 
potent spirit that he has evoked, and that obliges him to go 
on, desperately and ruinously, with his conjurations. He only 
thought at the outset to raise the wind, but the Regent com- 
pelled him to raise the wliirlwind. 

The investigation of the affairs of the Company by the 
council, resulted in nothing beneficial to the public. The 
princes and nobles who had enriched themselves by all kinds 
of juggles and extortions, escaped unpunished, and retained 
the gi-eater part of their spoils. Many of the "suddenly 
rich," who had risen from obscurity to a giddy height of 
imaginary prosperity, and had indulged in all kinds of vul- 
gar and ridicidous excesses, awoke as out of a dream, in their 
original poverty, now made more galhng and humiliating by 
their transient elevation. 

The weight of the evil, however, fell on more valuable classes 
of society; honest tradesmen and artisans, who had been 
seduced away from the safe pursuits of industry, to the 
sjjecious chances of speculation. Thousands of meritorious 
families also, once opulent, had been reduced to indigence, 
by a too great confidence in government. There was a gen- 



THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 69 

era! derangement in the finances, that long exerted a bane- 
ful influence over the national prosperity; but the most dis- 
astrous effects of the system were upon the morals and man- 
ners of the nation. The faith of engagements, the sanctity 
of promises in affaii-s of business, were at an end. Every 
expedient to grasp present profit, or to evade present difficulty, 
was tolerated. While such deplorable laxity of principle was 
generated in the busy classes, the chivahy of France had 
soiled their pennons ; and honor and glory, so long the idols of 
the G-aUic nobihty, had been tumbled to the earth, and tram- 
pled in the dirt of the stock-market. 

As to Law, the originator of the system, he appears even- 
tually to have profited but httle by his schemes. "He was a 
quack," says Voltaire, "to whom the state was given to be 
cured, but who poisoned it with his drugs, and who poisoned 
himself." The effects which he left behind in France, were 
sold at a low price, and the proceeds dissipated. His landed 
estates were confiscated. He carried away with him barely 
enough to maintain himself, his wife, and daughter, with de- 
cency. The chief reHque of his immense fortune was a great 
diamond, which he was often obliged to pawn. He was in 
England in 1721, and was presented to George the First. He 
retiirned shortly afterwards to the continent; shifting about 
from place to place, and died in Venice, in 1729. His wife and 
daughter, accustomed to live with the prodigality of princesses, 
cotdd not conform to their altered fortunes, but dissipated the 
scanty means left to them, and sank into abject poverty. ' ' I 
saw his wife," says Voltaire, "at Bruxelles, as much humili- 
ated as she had been haughty and triumphant in Paris." An 
elder brother of Law remained in France, and was protected 
by the Duchess of Bourbon. His descendants have acqmtted 
themselves honorably, in various public employments; and 
one of them is the Marquis Laurisston, some time Lieutenan$ 
General and Peer of France. 



70 TUE CRAYON PAPEE8. 

DON JUAN. 

A SPECTRAL RESEARCH. 

" I have heard of "spirits walking with aerial bodies, and have been wondered at 
by others; but I must only wonder at myself, for if they be not mad, I'me come to 
iiiy own buriall."— Shirlev's " Witty Faibie One." 

Everybody has heard of the fate of Don Juan, the famous 
libertine of Seville, who for his sins against the fair sex and 
other minor peccadilloes was hurried away to the infernal 
regions. His story has been illustrated in play, in pantomime, 
and farce, on every stage in Christendom ; until at length it has 
been rendered the theme of the opera of operas, and embalmed 
to endless dm"ation in the glorious music of Mozart. I well 
recollect the effect of this story upon my feelings in my boyish 
days, though represented in grotesque pantomime; the awe 
with which I contemplated the moniunental statue on horse- 
back of the murdered commander, gleaming by pale moonhght 
in the convent cemeteiy ; how my heart quaked as he bowed 
his marble head, and accepted the impious invitation of Don 
Juan : how each foot-fall of the statue smote upon my heart, 
as I heard it approach, step by step, through the echoing cor- 
ridor, and beheld it enter, and advance, a moving figure of 
stone, to the suppertable! But then the convivial scene in 
the charnel-house, where Don Juan returned the visit of the 
statue; was offered a banquet of skulls and bones, and on 
refusing to partake, was hurled into a yawning gulf, under a 
tremendous shower of fire ! These wei-e accumulated horrors 
enough to shake the nerves of the most pantomime-loving 
school-boy. Many have supposed the story of Don Juan a 
mere fable. I myself thought so once; but " seeing is behev- 
ing." I have since beheld the very scene Avhere it took place, 
and now to indulge any doubt on the subject would be pre- 
posterous. 

I was one night perambulating the streets of Seville, in com- 
pany with a Spanish friend, a curious investigator of the popu- 
lar traditions and other good-for-nothing lore of the city, and 
who was kind enough to imagine he had met, in me, with a 
congenial spirit. In the course of oiir rambles we were passing 
by a heavy, dark gateway, opening uato the court-yard of a 
convent, when he laid his hand upon my arm : ' ' Stop !" said 
he, ' ' this is the convent of San Francisco ; there is a story con- 



DON JUAK 71 

nected with it, which I am sure must be known to you. You 
cannot but have heard of Don Juan and the marble statue. " 

" Undoubtedly," replied I, "it has been familiar to me from 
childhood." 

"Well, then, it was in the cemetery of this very convent 
that the events took place." 

" Why, you do not mean to say that the story is founded on 
fact?" 

"Undoubtedly it is. The circumstances of the case are said 
to have occurred during the reign of Alfonso XI. Don Juan 
was of the noble family of Tenorio, one of the most illustrious 
houses of Andalusia. His father, Don Diego Tenorio, was a 
favorite of the king, and his family ranked among the deinte- 
cuatros, or magistrates, of the city. Presuming on his high de- 
scent and powerful connections, Don Juan set no bounds to his 
excesses : no female, high or low, was sacred from his pursuit : 
and he soon became the scandal of Seville. One of his most 
daring outrages was, to penetrate by night into the palace of 
Don Gonzalo de Ulloa, commander of the order-of Calatrava, 
and attempt to carry off his daughter. The household was 
alarmed ; a scuffle in the dark took place ; Don Juan escaped, 
but the unfortunate conmiander was found weltering in his 
blood, and expired without being able to name his murderer. 
Suspicions attached to Don Juan ; he did not stop to meet the 
investigations of justice, and the vengeance of the powerful 
family of Ulloa, but fled from Seville, and took refuge with his 
uncle, Don Pedro Tenorio, at that time ambassador at the court 
of Naples. Here he remained until the agitation occasioned by 
the murder of Don Gonzalo had time to subside ; and the scan- 
dal which the affair might cause to both the families of Ulloa 
and Tenorio had induced them to hush it up. Don Juan, how- 
ever, continued his libertine career at Naples, untU at length 
his excesses forfeited the protection of his uncle, the ambassa- 
dor, and obliged him again to flee. He had made his way back 
to Seville, tnistmg that his past misdeeds were forgotten, or 
rather trusting to Ms dare-devil spirit and the power of his 
family, to carry him through all difficulties. 

"It was shortly after his return, and while in the height of 
his arrogance, that on visiting this very convent of Francisco, 
he beheld on a monument the equestrian statue of the mur- 
dered commander, who had been buried within the walls of 
this sacred edifice, where the family of Ulloa had a chapel. It 
was on this occasion that Don Juan, in a moment of impious 



72 THia CRAYO]^' PAPERS. 

iexitj, invited the statue to the banquet, the awful catastrophe 
of which has given such celebrity to his story." 

•' And pray how mucli of this story," said I, "is believed in 
Seville^" 

' ' The whole of it by the populace ; with whom it has been a 
favorite tradition since time immemorial, and who crowd to 
the theatres to see it represented in dramas written long since 
by Tyrso de Molina, and another of our popular writers. Many 
in our higher ranks also, accustomed from childhood to this 
story, woidd feel somewhat mdignant at hearing it treated with 
contempt. An attempt has been made to explain the whole, 
by asserting that, to put an end to the extravagancies of Don 
Juan, and to pacify the family of Ulloa, without exposing the 
delinquent to the degi-ading penalties of justice, he was decoyed 
into this convent under a false pretext, and either plunged into 
a perpetual dungeon, or privately hurried out of existence; 
while the story of the statue was circulated by the monks, to 
account for his sudden disappearance. The populace, how- 
ever, are not to be cajoled out of a ghost story by any of 
these plausible explanations; and the marble statue still 
strides the stage, and Don Juan is stiU plunged into the in- 
fernal regions, as an awful warning to all rake-helly young- 
sters, in like case offending." 

While my companion was relating these anecdotes, we had 
entered the gate-way, traversed the exterior court-yard of the 
convent, and made our way into a great interior court ; partly 
suiTOunded by cloisters and dormitories, partly by chapels, 
and having a large fountain in the centre. The pile had evi- 
dently once been extensive and magnificent ; but it was for the 
greater part in ruins. By the light of the stars, and of twink- 
ling lamps placed here and there in the chapels and corridors,! 
I could see that many of the columns and arches were brokiin ; 
the walls were rent and riven ; while burned beams and rafters 
showed the destnictive effects of fire. The whole place had a 
desolate air ; the night breeze inistled through grass and weeds 
flaunting out of the crevices of the walls, or from the shat- 
tered columns ; the bat flitted about the vaulted passages, and 
the owl hooted from tbe iiiined belfry. Never was any scene 
more completely fitted for a ghost story. 

While I was indulging in picturings of the fancy, proper to 
such a place, the deep chaunt of the monks from the convent 
church came swelling upon the ear. " It is the vesper service, " 
said my companion; "follow me." 



DON JUAN. 73 

Leading the way across the court of the cloisters, and 
through one or two ruined passages, he reached the distant 
portal of the church, and pushing open a wicket, cut in the 
folding-doors, we found ourselves in the deep arched vestibule 
of the sacred edifice. To our left was the choir, forming one 
end ox the chin-ch, and having a low vaulted ceiling, which 
gave it the look of a cavern. About this were ranged the 
monks, seated on stools, and chaunting from unmense books 
placed on music-stands, and having the notes scored in such 
gigantic characters as to be legible from every part of the choir. 
A few hghts on these music-stands dimly illumined the choir, 
gleamed on the shaven heads of the monks, and threw their 
shadows on the walls. They were gross, blue-bearded, buUet- 
headed men, with bass voices, of deep metallic tone, that re- 
verberated out of the cavernous choir. 

To our right extended the gi*eat body of the church. It was 
spacious and lofty ; some of the side chapels had gilded grates, 
and were decorated with images and paintings, representing 
the sufferings of our Saviour. Aloft was a great painting by 
Murillo, but too much in the dark to be distinguished. The 
gloom of the whole church was but faintly relieved by the re- 
fleeted light from the choir, and the glimmering here and there 
of a votive lamp before the shrine of a saint. 

As my eye roamed about the shadowy pile, it was struck 
with the dimly seen figure of a man on horseback, near a dis- 
tant altar. I touched my companion, and pointed to it: " The 
spectre statue!" said I. 

"No," replied he; " it is the statue of the blessed St. lago; 
the statue of the commander was in the cemetery of the con- 
vent, and was destroyed at the time of the conflagration. 
But, " added he, " as I see you take a proper interest in these 
kind of stories, come with me to the other end of the church, 
where our whisperings will not disturb these holy fathers at 
their devotions, and I wiU tell you another story, that has been 
current for some generations in our city, by which you will 
find that Don Juan is not the only Hbertine that has been the 
object of supernatural castigation in Seville." 

I accordingly followed him with noiseless tread to the farther 
part of the church, where we took our seats on the steps of an 
altar, opposite to the suspicious-looking figure on horseback, 
and there, in a low, mysterious voice, he related to me the fol- 
lowing narrative : 

"There was once in Seville a gay young fellow, Don Manuel 



74" THE CRAYON PAPKRH. 

de Manara by name, who having come to a great estate by the 
death of his father, gave the reins to his passions, and phmgccl 
into all kinds of dissipation. Lil^e Don Juan, whom he seemed 
to have taken for a model, he became famous for his enter- 
prises among the fair sex, and was the cause of doors being 
barred and windows grated with more than usual strictness. 
All in vain. No balcony was too high for him to scale ; no bolt 
nor bar was proof against liis efforts ; and his very name was a 
word of terror to all the jealous husbands and cautious fathers, 
oc Seville. His exploits extended to country as well as city; 
and in the village dependent on his castle, scarce a rural beauty 
was safe from his arts and enterprises. 

"As he was one day ranging the streets of Seville, with sev- 
eral of his dissolute companions, he beheld a procession about 
to enter the gate of a convent. In the centre was a young fe- 
male arrayed in the dress of a bride ; it was a novice, who, hav- 
ing accomplished her year of probation, was about to take the 
black veil, and consecrate herself to heaven. The companions 
of Don Manuel drew back, out of respect to the sacred pageant ; 
but he pressed forwai'd, with his usual impetuosity, to gain a 
near view of the no^ncc. He almost jostled her, in passing 
through the portal of the church, when, on her turning round, 
he beheld the countenance of a beautiful village girl, who liad 
been the object of his ardent pursuit, but who had been spirited 
secretly out of his reach by her relatives. She recognized hun 
at the same moment, and fainted ; but was borae within the 
grate of the chapel. It was supposed the agitation of the cere- 
mony and the heat of the throng had overcome her. After 
some time, the curtain which hung within the grate was drawn 
up : there stood the novice, pale and trembling, surromided by 
the abbess and the nuns. The ceremony proceeded ; the crown 
of flowers was taken from her head ; she was shorn of her silken 
tresses, received the black veil, and went passively through 
the remainder of the ceremony. 

"Don Manuel de Manara, on the contrary, was roused to 
fury at the sight of this sacrifice. His passion, whicn 
had almost faded away in the absence of the object, now 
glowed with tenfold ardor, being inflamed by the difficulties 
placed in his way, and piqued by the measures which had been 
taken to defeat him. Never had the object of his pursuit ap- 
peared so lovely and desirable as when within the gi-ate of the 
convent ; and he swore to have her, in defiance of heaven and 
earth. By dint of bribing a female servant of the convent he 



DON JUAN. 75 

contrived to convey letters to her, pleading his passion in the 
most eloquent and seductive terms. How successful they were 
is only matter of conjecture ; certain it is, he undertook one 
night to scale the garden wall of the convent, either to carry 
off the mm, or gain admission to her ceU. Just as he was 
mounting the wall he Avas suddenly plucked back, and a 
stranger, muffled in a cloak, stood before him. 

" ' Rash man, iorbear! ' cried he: 'is it not enough to have 
.delated aU human ties? Wouldst thou steal a bride from 
heaven ! ' 

" The sword of Don Manuel had been drawn on the instant, 
and furious at this interruption, he passed it through the body 
of the stranger, who fell dead at his feet. Hearing approach- 
ing footsteps, he fled the fatal spot, and movmting his horse, 
which was at hand, retreated to his estate in the country, at no 
great distance from Seville. Here he remained throughout the 
next day, full of horror and remorse ; dreading lest he should 
be known as the murderer of the deceased, and fearing each 
moment the ari'ival of the officers of justice. 

' ' The day passed, however, without molestation ; and, as the 
evening approached, unable any longer to endure this state of 
uncertainty and apprehension, he ventured back to Seville. 
Irresistibly his footsteps took the direction of the convent ; but 
he paused and hovered at a distance from the scene of blood. 
Several persons were gathei-ed round the place, one of whom 
was busy nailing something against the convent wall. After a 
while they dispersed, and one passed near to Don Manuel. The 
latter addressed him, with hesitating voice. 

" ' Sell or,' said he, ' may I ask the reason of yonder throng? ' 

" ' A cavalier, ' replied the other, ' has been murdered. ' 

" ' Murdered ! ' echoed Don Manuel; ' and can you tell me his 



name? ' 

" ' Don Manuel de Manara,' replied the stranger, and passed 
on. 

- " Don Manuel was startled at this mention of his own name; 
especially when applied to the murdered man. He ventured, 
when it was entirely deserted, to approach the fatal spot. A 
small cross had been nailed against the wall, as is customaiy in 
Spain, to mark the place where a murder has been committed ; 
and just below it he read, by the twinkling hght of a lamp : 
' Here was murdered Don Manuel de Manai'a. Pray to God for 
his soul ! ' 

"Still more confounded and perplexed by this inscription, he 



70 TUK CRAYOy PAl'ERS. 

waudered about the streets untU the night was far advanced, and 
all was still and lonely. As he entered the principal square, 
the light of torches suddenlj^ broke on liim, and he beheld a 
grand Iiuieral procession moving across it. There was a gi'eat 
train of priests, and many persons ol dignified appearance, in 
anc-ient Spanish dresses, attending as mourners, none of whom 
he knew. Accosting a servant who followed in the train, he 
demanded the name of the defunct. 

" 'Don Manuel de Manara,' was the reply; and it went cold 
to his heart. He looked, and indeed beheld the armorial bear- 
ings of his family emblazoned on the funeral escutcheons, 
Yeo not one of his family was to be seen among the mourners. 
The mystery was more and more incomprehensible. 

" He followed the procession as it moved on to the cathedral. 
The bier was deposited before the high altar ; the funeral ser- 
vice was conmienced, and the grand organ began to peal 
through the vaulted aisles. 

"Again the youth ventured to question this awful pageant. 
'Father,' said he, with trembling voice, to one of the priests, 
'who is this you are about to inter? ' 

" ' Don Manuel de Manara! ' replied the priest, 

" ' Father, ' cried Don Manuel, impatiently, 'you are deceived. 
This is some imposture. Know that Don Manuel de Manara is 
alive and well, and now stands before you. I am Don Manuel 
de Manara ! ' 

" 'Avaunt, rash youth!' cried the priest; 'know that Don 
Manuel de Manara is dead ! — is dead ! — is dead ! — and we are all 
souls from purgatory, his deceased relatives and ancestors, and 
others that have been aided by masses of his family, who are 
permitted to come here and pray for the repose of his soul I ' 

' ' Don Manuel cast round a fearful glance upon the assem- 
blage, in antiquated Spanish garbs, and recognized in their pale 
and ghastly countenances the portraits of many an ancestor 
that hung in the family picture-gallery. He now lost all self- 
command, rushed up to the bier, and beheld the counterpart' 
of himself, but in the fixed and hvid lineaments of death. 
Just at that moment the whole choir burst forth with a ' Ee- 
quiescat in pace,' that shook the vaults of the cathedral. Don 
Manuel sank senseless on the pavement. He was found there 
early the next morning by the sacristan, and conveyed to his 
home. When sufficiently recovei-ed, he sent for a friar, and 
made a full confession of all that had happened. 

" ' My son,' said the friar^^'.all this is a miracle and a mya* 



DO^' JUAN. 77 

tery, intended for thy conversion and salvation. The corpse 
thou hast seen was a token that thou hadst died to sin and the 
world ; take warning by it, and henceforth hve to righteous- 
ness and heaven ! ' 

"Don Manuel did take warning by it. Guided .by the coun- 
sels of the worthy friar, he disposed of all his temporal affairs ; 
dedicated the greater part of his wealth to pious uses, espe- 
cially to the performance of masses for souls in purgatory; 
and finally, entering a convent, became one of the most zealous 
and exemplary monks in Seville. " 



While my companion was relating this story, my eyes wan- 
dered, from time to time, about the dusky church. Methought 
the burly countenances of the monks in their distant choir 
assumed a pallid, ghastly hue, and then* deep metalhc voices 
had a sepulchral sound. By the time the story was ended, 
they had ended their chant; and, extinguishing their lights, 
glided one by one, like shadows, through a small door in the 
side of the choir. A deeper gloom prevailed over the church ; 
the figure opposite me on horseback grew more and more 
spectral ; and I almost expected to see it bow its head. 

"It is time to be off," said my companion, "unless we 
intend to sup mth the statue. " 

" I have no rehsh for such fare or such company," replied I; 
and, following my companion, we groped our way through the 
mouldering cloisters. As we passed by the ruined cemetery, 
keeping up a casual conversation by way of dispelling the 
loneliness of the scene, I called to mind the words of the poet: 

The tombs 

And monumental caves of death look cold. 
And shoot a chilluess to my trembhiig heart! 
Give me thy hand, and let me hear thy voice; 
Nay, speak — and let me hear thy voice; 
My own affrights me with its echoes. 

There wanted nothing but the marble statue of the commander 
striding along the echoing cloisters to complete the haunted 
scene. 

Since that time I never fail to attend the theatre whenever 
the story of Don Juan is represented, whether in pantomime 
or opera. In the sepulchral scene, I feel myself quite at home ; 
and when the statue makes his appearance, I greet him as an 
old acquaintance. When the audience applaud, I look round 



78 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

upon them with a degi-ee of compassion. " Poor souls !" I say- 
to myself, "they think they are pleased; they think they 
enjoy tliis piece, and yet they consider the whole as a fiction! 
How much more woidd they enjoy it, if like me they knew it 
to be true — and had seen the very place P^ 



BROEK: 

OR THE DUTCH PARADISE. 

It has long been a matter of discussion and controversy 
among the pious and the learned, as to the situation of the 
terrestrial paradise whence our first parents were exiled. 
This question has been put to rest by certain of the faithful in 
Holland, who have decided in favor of the village of Broek, 
about six miles from Amsterdam. It may not, they observe, 
correspond in aU respects to the description of the Garden of 
Eden, handed down from days of yore, but it comes nearer to 
their ideas of a perfect paradise than any other place on earth. 

Tliis eulogiiun induced me to make some inquiries as to this 
favored spot in the course of a sojourn at the city of Amster- 
dam, and the information I procured fully justified the enthu- 
siastic praises I had heard. The village of Broek is situated in 
Waterland, in the midst of the greenest and richest pastures of 
Holland, I may say, of Europe. These pastures are the source 
of its wealth, for it is famous for its dairies, aud for those oval 
cheeses which regale and perfume the whole civihzed world. 
The population consists of about six hundred persons, compris- 
ing several families which have inhabited the place since time 
immemorial, and have waxed rich on the products of their 
meadows. They keep all their wealth among themselves, 
intermarrying, and keeping all strangers at a wary distance. 
They are a " hard money" people, and remarkable for turning 
the pennj'- the right way. It is said to have been an old rule, 
established by one of the primitive financiers and legislators of 
Broek, that no one should leave the \allage with more than six 
guilders in his pocket, or return with less than ten ; a shrewd 
regulation, well worthy the attention of modern political 
economists, wlio are so anxious to fix the balance of trade. 

What, however, renders Brock so perfect an elysium in the 
©yes of all true Hollanders, is the matchless height to which 



BliOEK. 79 

the spirit of cleanliness is carried there. It amounts almost to 
a religion among the inhabitants, who pass the greater part of 
their time laibbing and scrubbing, and pamting and varnishing ; 
each housewife vies with her neighbor in her devotion to the 
scrubbing-brush, as zealous Cathohcs do in their devotion to 
the cross ; and it is said a notable housewife of the place in 
days of yore is held in pious remembrance, and almost canon- 
ized as a saiat, for having died of pure exhaustion and chagrin 
in an ineffectual attempt to scour a black man white. 

These particidars awakened my ardent curiosity to see a 
place which I pictured to myself the very fountain-head of 
certain hereditary habits and customs prevalent among the 
descendants of the original Dutch settlers of my native State. 
I accordingly lost no time in performing a pilgrimage to Broek. 

Before I reached the place I beheld symptoms of the tranquil 
character of its inhabitants. A little clump-built boat was in 
full sail along the lazy bosom of a canal, but its sail consisted 
of the blades of two paddles stood on end, while the navigator 
sat steering with a third paddle in the stern, crouched down 
like a toad, with a slouched hat drawn over his eyes. I 
presmned him to be some nautical lover on the way to his 
mistress. After proceeding a httle farther I came in sight of 
the harbor or port of destination of this drowsy navigator. 
This was the Broeken-Meer, an artificial basin, or sheet of 
olive-green water, tranquil as a mill-pond. On this the village 
of Broek is situated, and the borders are laboriously decorated 
with flower-beds, box-trees clipped into all kinds of ingenious 
shapes and fancies, and hfctle "lust" houses or pavilions. 

I alighted outside of the village, for no horse nor vehicle is 
permitted to enter its precincts, lest it should cause defilement 
of the well-scoured pavements. Shaking the dust off my feet, 
therefore, I prepared to enter, with due reverence and circum- 
spection, this sanctum sanctorum of Dutch cleanliness. I 
entered by a narrow street, paved with yellow bricks, laid 
edgewise, so clean that one might eat from them. Indeed, 
they were actually worn deep, not by the tread of feet, but by 
the fi-iction of the scrubbing-brush. 

The houses were built of wood, and all appeared to have been 
freshly painted, of green, yellow, and other bright colors. 
They were separated from each other by gardens and orchards, 
and stood at some httle distance from the street, with wide 
areas or courtyards, paved in mosaic, with variegated stones, 
polished by frequent rubbing. The areas Avere divided from 



go TUE CRAYON PAPERS. 

the street by curiously- wrought raiUngs, or balustrades, of u*on, 
surmounted with brass and copper balls, scoured into dazzling 
elfulgence. The very trunks of the trees in front of the 
houses were by the same process made to look as if they had 
been varnished. The porches, dooi^s, and Avdndow-fraiues of 
the houses were of exotic woods, curiously carved, and polished 
like costly fm-niture. The front doors are never opened, 
excepting on christenings, marriages, or funerals ; on all ordi- 
nary occasions, visitors enter by the back door. In former 
times, persons "svhen admitted had to put on slippers, but this 
oriental ceremony is no longer insisted upon. 

A poor devil Frenchman who attended upon me as cicerone, 
boasted with some degree of exultation, of a triumph of his 
countrymen over the stern regulations of the place. During 
the time that HoUand was overrun by the armies of the French 
Republic, a French general, surrounded by his whole etat 
major, who had come from Amsterdam to \aew the wonders of 
Broek, applied for admission at one of these taboo'd portals. 
The I'cply was, that the OA\Tier never received any one who did 
not come introduced by some friend. "Very weU," said the 
general, "take my compliTients to your master, and tell him I 
will return here to-morrow with a company of soldiers, '^ pour 
parler raison avec mon ami Hollandais.'' ''^ Terrified at the 
idea of having a company of soldiers billeted upon him, the 
owner threw open his house, entertained the general and his 
retinue with unwonted hospitahty ; though it is said it cost the 
family a month's scrubbing and scouring, to restore all things 
to exact order, after this military invasion. My vagabond in- 
formant seemed to consider this one of the greatest victories of 
the republic. 

I walked about the place in mute wonder and admiration. 
A dead stillness prevailed around, like that in the deserted 
streets of Pompeii. No sign of life was to be seen, excepting 
now and then a hand, and a long pipe, and an occasional puff 
of smoke, out of the window of some "lust-haus" overhanging 
a miniature canal; and on i\pproaching a little nearer, the 
periphery in profile of some robustious burgher. 

Among the grand houses pointed out to me were those of 
Claes Bakker, and Cornelius Bakicer, richly cai-ved and 
gilded, with flower gardens and clipped shrubberies ; and that 
of the Great Ditmus, who, my porjr devil cicerone informed me, 
in a whisper, was worth two millions ; all these were mansions 
shut up from the world, and onlv kept to be cleaned. After 



BROEK. 31 

having been conducted from one wonder to another of the 
village, I was ushered by my guide into the grounds and 
gardens of Mynheer Broekker, another mighty cheese-manu- 
facturer, worth eighty thousand guilders a year, I had re- 
peatedly been struck with the similarity of all that I had seen 
in this amphibious httle village, to the buildings and land- 
scapes on Chinese platters and tea-pots ; but here I fomid the 
similarity complete; for I was told that these gardens were 
modelled upon Van Bramm's description of those of Yuen min 
Yuen, in China. Here were serpentiae walks, with trellised 
borders; winding canals, with fanciful Chinese bridges; 
flower-beds resembling huge baskets, with the flower of "love 
lies bleeding" faUing over to the ground. But mostly had the 
fancy of Mynheer Broekker been displayed about a stagnant 
httle lake, on which a corpulent little pinnace lay at anchor. 
On the border was a cottage, Avithin which were a wooden man 
and woman seated at table, and a wooden dog beneath, aU the 
size of life : on pressing a spring, the woman commenced spin- 
ning, and the dog barked furiously. On the lake were wooden 
swans, painted to the life; some floating, others on the nest 
among the rushes; while a wooden sportsman, crouched 
among the bushes, was preparing his gun to take deadly aim. 
In another part of the garden was a dominie in his clerical 
robes, with wig, pipe, and cocked hat ; and mandarins 'vdih 
nodding heads, amid red lions, green tigers, and blue hares. 
Last of all, the heathen deities, in wood and plaster, male and 
female, naked and bare-faced as usual, and seeming to stare 
with wonder at finding themselves in such strange company. 

My shabby French guide, while he pointed out aU these 
mechanical marvels of the garden, was anxious to let me see 
that he had too polite a taste to be pleased with them. At 
every new nick-nack he would screw down his mouth, shrug 
up his shoulders, take a pinch of snuif, and exclaim: "ilfa/oi. 
Monsieur, ces Hollandais sont forts pour ces betises laP'' 

To attempt to gain admission to any of these stately abodes 
was out of the question, having no company of soldiers to 
enforce a solicitation. I was fortunate enough, however, 
through the aid of my guide, to made my way into the 
kitchen of the illustrious Ditmus, and I question whether the 
parlor would have proved more worthy of observation. The 
cook, a little wiry, hook-nosed woman, worn thin by incessant 
action and friction, was bustling about among her kettles and 
saucepans, with the scullion at her heels, both clattering in 



82 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

wooden shoes, which were as clean and white as the milk- 
pails ; rows of vessels, of brass and copper, regiments of pewter 
dishes, and portly porringers, gave resplendent evidence of the 
intensity of their cleanliness ; the very trammels and hangers 
in the fireplace were higlily scoured, and the burnished face of 
the good Saint Nicholas shone forth from the iron plate of the 
cliinmey-back. 

Among the decorations of the kitchen was a printed sheet of 
woodcuts, representing the various liohday customs of Hol- 
land, with explanatory rhymes. Here I was delighted to 
recognize the jollities of New Year's Day; the festivities of 
PaJis and Pinkster, and all the other merry-makings handed 
down in my native place from the earliest tunes of New Am- 
sterdam, and which had been such bright spots in the year in 
my chOdhood. I eagerly made myself master of this precious 
document, for a trifling consideration, and bore it off as a 
memento of the place ; though I question if, in so doing, I did 
not carry off with mc the whole current literature of Broek, 

I must not omit to mention that this village is the paradise 
of cows as well as men ; indeed you would almost suppose the 
cow to be as much an object of worship here, as the bull was 
among the ancient Egyptians ; and well does she merit it, for 
she is in fact the patroness of the place. The same scrupulous 
cleanliness, however, which pervades everything else, is mani- 
fested in the treatment of tliis venerated anunal. She is not 
permitted to perambulate the place, but in winter, when she 
forsakes the rich pasture, a well-built house is provided for 
her, well painted, and maintained in the most perfect order. 
Her stall is of ample dimensions; the floor is scrubbed and 
polished ; her hide is daily curried and brushed and sponged to 
her heart's content, and her tail is daintily tucked up to the 
ceiling, and decorated with a riband ! 

On my way back through the village, I passed the house of 
the prediger, or preacher ; a very comfortable mansion, which 
led me to augur well of the state of religion m the village. On 
inquiry, I was told that for a long time the inhabitants lived 
in a great state of indifference as to religious matters : it was 
in vain that their preachers endeavored to arouse their 
thoiights as to a future state; the joys of heaven, as com- 
monly depicted, were but little to their taste. At length a 
dominie appeared among them who struck out in a different 
vein. He depicted the New Jerusalem as a place all smooth 
and level; with beautiful dykes, and ditches, and canals; and, 



8KMTC1IES iiV PARIS IN 1825. 83 

houses all shining with paint and varnish, and glazcA tiles; 
and where there should never come horse, or ass, or cat, or 
dog, or anything that could make noise or dirt; but there 
should be nothing but rubbing and scrubbing, and washing 
and painting, and gilding and varnishing, for ever and ever, 
amen ! Since that time, the good housewives of Broek have all 
turned their faces Zion-ward. 



SKETCHES IN PARIS IN 1825. 

FROM THE TRAVELLING NOTE-BOOK OF GEOFFREY CRAYON, 
GENT. 

A Parisian hotel is a street set on end, the grand staircase 
forming the highway, and every floor a separate habitation. 
Let me describe the one in which I am lodged, which may 
sei-ve as a specimen of its class. It is a huge quadrangular 
pile of stone, built round a spacious paved court. The ground 
floor is occupied by sh«ps, magazines, and domestic offices. 
Then comes the entresol, with low ceilings, short windows, 
and dwarf chambers ; then succeed a succession of floors, or 
stories, rismg one above the other, to the number of Mahomet's 
heavens. Each floor is like a distinct mansion, complete in 
itself, with ante-chamber, saloons, dining and sleeping rooms, 
kitchen, and other conveniences for the accommodation of a 
family. Some floors are divided into two or more suites of 
apartments. Each apartment has its main door of entrance, 
opening upon the staircase, or landmg-places, and locked like 
a street door. Thus several famihes and numerous single pei'- 
sons live under the same roof, totally independent of eacli 
other, and may live so for years without holding more inter- 
course than is kept up in other cities by residents in the same 
street. 

Like the great world, this little microcosm has its gradations 
of rank and style and importance. The Premier, or first floor, 
with its grand saloons, lofty ceilings, and splendid furniture, 
is decidecUy the aristocratical part of the estabhshment. The 
second floor is scarcely less aristoci-atical and magnificent ; the 
other floors go on kssening in splendor as they gain in altitude, 
and end with the attics, the region of petty tailors, clerks, and 



84 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

sewing girls. To make the filling up of the mansion com- 
plete, every odd nook and corner is fitted up as a joli petit 
appartement a garron (a pretty little bachelor's apartment), 
that is to say, some little dark inconvenient nestling-place for 
a poor devil of a bachelor. 

The whole domain is shut up from the street by a great 
porte-cochere, or portal, calculated for the admission of car- 
riages. This consists of two massy folding-doors, that swing 
heavily open upon a spacious entrance, passing under the front 
of the edifice into the court-yard. On one side is a spacious 
staircase leading to the upper apartments. Immediately with- 
out the portal is the porter's lodge, a small room with one or 
two bedrooms adjacent, for the accommodation of the con- 
cierge, or porter, and his family. This is one of the most im- 
portant functionaries of the hotel. He is, in fact, the Cerberus 
of the establishment, and no one can pass in or out without his 
knowledge and consent. The porte-cocheve in general is fas- 
tened by a sliding bolt, from which a cord or wire passes into 
the porter's lodge. Whoever wishes to go out must speak to 
the porter, who draws the bolt. A visitor fi'om without gives 
a single rap ^vith the massive knocker ; the bolt is immediately 
drawn, as if by an invisible hand; the door stands ajar, the 
visitor pushes it open, and enters. A face presents itseK at 
the glass door of the porter's little chamber ; the stranger pro- 
nounces the name of the person he comes to see. If the person 
or family is of importance, occupying the first or second floor, 
the porter sounds a bell once or twice, to give notice that a 
visitor is at hand. The stranger in the meantime ascends the 
great staircase, the highway common to all, and arrives at the 
outer door, equivalent to a street door, of the suite of rooms 
inhabited by his friends. Beside this hangs a beU-cord, with 
which he rings for admittance. 

When the family or person inquired for is of less importance, 
or lives in some remote part of the mansion less easy to be 
apprised, no signal is given. The applicant pronounces the 
name at the portei-'s door, and is told, '' Montez au troisieme, 
an qtiatrieme; sounez a la parte a clroite, on a gauche; 
("Ascend to the third or fourth story; ring the bell on the 
right or left hand door,") as the case may be. 

The porter and his wife act as domestics to such of the in- 
mates of the mansion as do not keep servants ; making their 
beds, arranging their rooms, fighting their fires, and doing 
other menial offices, for which they receive a monthly stipend, 



SKETCHES IN PARIS IN 1825. S5 

They are also in confidential intercourse with the servants of 
the other inmates, and, having an eye on all the in-comers and 
out-goers, are thus enabled, by hook and by crook, to learn the 
secrets and domestic history of every member of the Uttle ter- 
ritory within the porte-cochere. 

The porter's lodge is accordingly a great scene of gossip, 
where all the private affairs of this interior neighborhood are 
discussed. The court-yard, also, is an assembling place in the 
evenings for the servants of the different families, and a sister- 
hood of sewing girls from the entresols and the attics, to play 
at various games, and dance to the music of their own songs, 
and the echoes of theii' feet, at which assemblages the porter's 
daughter takes the lead ; a fresh, pretty, buxom girl, generally 
called "La Petite,'^ though almost as tall as a grenadier. 
These httle evening gatherings, so characteristic of this gay 
country, are countenanced by the various families of the man- 
sion, who 'often look down from their windows and balconies, 
on moonUght evenings, and enjoy the simple revels of their 
domestics. I mast observe, however, that the hotel I am. 
describing is rather a quiet, retired om, where most of the 
inmates are permanent residents from year to year, so that 
there is more of the spirit of neighborhood than in the bust- 
Hng, fashionable hotels in the gay parts of Paris, which are 
continually changing their inhabitants, 

MY FRENCH NEIQIIBOR. 

I OFTEN amuse myself by watching from my window (which, 
by the bye, is tolerably elevated), the movements of the teem- 
ing Httle world below me ; and as I am on sociable terms with 
the porter and his wife, I gather from them, as they light my 
fire, or serve my breakfast, anecdotes of all my fellow lodgers. 
I have been somewhat curious in studying a little antique 
Frenchman, who occui)ies one of the jolie chambres a gargon 
already mentioned. He is one of those superannuated veterans 
who flourished before the revolution, aiid have weathered all 
the storms of Paris, in conseqiience, very probably, of being 
fortunately too insignificant to attract attention. He has a 
small income, which he manages with the skill of a French 
economist; appropriating so much for his lodgings, so much 
for his meals; so much for his visits to St. Cloud and Ver- 
sailles, and so much for his seat at the theatre. He has resided 
in the hotel for years, and always in the same chamber, which 



gg THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

>ie iumishes at his own expense. The decorations of the room- 
inai'k his various ages. There are some gallant pictures which 
lie hung up in his younger days ; witli a portrait of a lady of 
i-ank, whom he speaks tenderly of, dressed in the old French 
taste; and a pretty opera dancer, pirouetting in a hoop petti- 
coat, who lately died at a good old ago. In a corner of this 
))icture is stuck a prescription for rheimaatism, and below it 
Btands an easy-chair. He has a small parrot at the window, 
to amuse him when within doors, and a pug dog to accompany' 
him in his daily peregrinations. While I am writing he is 
crossing the court to go out. He is attired in his best coat, of 
sky-blue, and is doubtless bound for the Tuileries. His hair is 
dressed in the old style, with powdered ear-locks and a pig-tail. 
His little dog trips after him, sometimes on four legs, some- 
times on three, and looking as if his leather small-clothes were 
too tight for him. Now the old gentleman stops to have a 
word with an old crony who lives in the entresol, add is just 
returning from his promenade. Now they take a pinch of 
snuff together; now they pull out huge red cotton handker- 
chiefs (those "flags of abomination," as they have well been 
caUed) and blow their noses most sonorously. Now they turn 
to make remarks upon their two little dogs, who are exchang- 
ing the morning's salutation ; now they part, and my old gen- 
tleman stops to have a passing word with the porter's Avife; 
and now he sallies forth, and is fairly launched upon the town 
for the day. 

No man is so methodical as a complete idler, and none so 
scrupulous in measurmg and portioning out Ins time as he 
whose time is worth nothing. The old gentleman in question 
has his exact hour for rising, and for shaving himself by a 
small mirror hung against his casement. He sallies forth at a 
certain hour every morning to take his cup of coffee and his 
roll at a certain cafe, where he reads the papers. He has been 
a regular admirer of the lady who presides at the bar, and, 
always stops to have a little badinage Avith her en passant. 
He has his regular walks on the Boulevards and in the Palais 
Royal, where he sets his watch by the petard fired off by the 
sun at mid-day. He has his daily resort in the Garden of the 
Tuileries, to naeet with a knot of veteran idlers like himself, 
who talk on pretty much the same subjects whenever they 
meet. He has been present at all the sights and shows and 
rejoicings of Paris for the last fifty years; has witnessed the 
great events of the revolution ; the guillotining of the king ai^ 



SKETCHES IN PARIS IN ISCS. 87 

queen; the coronation of Bonaparte; the capture of Paris, and 
the restoration of the Bourbons. All these he speaks of with 
the coolness of a theatrical critic; and I question whether he 
has not been gratified by each in its turn ; not from any inher- 
ent love of tumult, but from that insatiable appetite for spec- 
tacle which prevails among the inhabitants of this metropolis. 
I have been amused with a farce, in which one of these syste- 
matic old triflers is represented. He sings a song detailing liis 
whole day's round of insignificant occupations, and goes to bed 
dehghted with the idea that his next day will be an exact repe- 
tition of the same routine : 

" Je me couche le soir, 
Enchante de pouvoir 
Recominencer mou train 
Le lendeinain 
Matin." 

THE ENGLISHMAN AT PARIS. 

In another part of the hotel a handsome suite of rooms is 
occupied by an old Enghsh gentleman, of gi'eat probity, some 
understanding, and very considerable crustiness, who has come 
to France to hve economically. He has a very fair property, 
but his wife, being of that blessed kind compared in Scripture 
to the fruitful vine, has overwhelmed him with a family of 
buxom daughters, who hang clustering about him, ready to be 
gathered by any hand. He is seldom to be seen in pubhc with- 
out one hanging on each arm, and smiling on all the world, 
while his o^vn mouth is drawn down at each corner like a mas- 
tiff's with internal growling at everything about him. He ad- 
heres rigidly to Enghsh fashion in dress, and trudges about in 
long gaiters and broad-brimmed hat; while his daughters 
almost overshadow bim with feathers, flowers, and French 
bonnets. 

He contrives to keep up an atmosphere of Enghsh habits, 
opinions, and prejudices, and to carry a semblance of London 
into the very heart of Paris. His mornings are spent at Galig- 
naui's news-room, where he forms one of a knot of inveterate 
quidnuncs, who read the same articles over a dozen times 
m a dozen different papers. He generally dines in company 
with some of his own countrymen, and they have what is 
called a "comfortable sitting" after dinner, in the Enghsh 
fashion^ drinking wine, discussing the news of the London 
papers, and canvassing the French character, the French me- 



88 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

tropoMs, and the French revolution, endmg with a unanimous 

admission of English courage, English morality, English cook- 
ery, Enghsh wealth, the magnitude of London, and the ingrati- 
tude of the French. 

His evenings are chiefly spent at a club of his countrymen, 
whoi'e the London papers are taken. Sometimes his daughters 
entice him to the theatres, but not often. He abuses French 
tragedy, as all fustian and bombast, Talma as a ranter, and 
Duchesnois as a mere termagant. It is true his ear is not suffi- 
ciently familiar with the language to understand French verse, 
and he generally goes to sleep during the performance. The 
wit of the French comedy is flat and pointless to him. He 
would not give one of Llunden's wry faces, or Listen's inex- 
pressible looks, for the whole of it. 

He wiU not admit that Paris has any advantage over London. 
The Seine is a muddy rividet in comparison with the Thames ; 
the West End of London siu'passes the finest parts of the 
French capital; and on some one's observing that there was 
a very thick fog out of doors: "Pish!" said he, crustily, "it's 
nothing to the fogs we have in London." 

He has infinite trouble in bringing his table into anything 
like conformity to English rule. With his liquors, it is true, 
he is tolerably successful. He procures London porter, and a 
stock of port and sherry, at considerable expense ; for he ob- 
serves that he cannot stand those ciirsed thin French wines, 
they dilute his blood so much as to give him the rheumatism. 
A.S to their white wines, he stigmatizes them as mere substitutes 
for cider; and as to claret, why "it would b« port if it could." 
He has continual quarrels with his French cook, whom he 
renders wretched by insisting on his conforming to Mrs. Glass ; 
for it is easier to convert a Frenchman from bis religion than 
his cookery. The poor fellow, by dint of repeated efforts, once 
brovight himself to serve up ros hlf sufficiently raw to suit what 
he considered the cannibal taste of his master; but then he 
could not refrain, at the last moment, adding some exquisite 
sauce, that put the old gentleman in a fury. 

He detests wood-fires, and has procured a quantity of coal ; 
but not having a grate, he is obliged to burn it on the hearth. 
Here he sits poking and stirring the fire with one end of a tongs, 
while the room is as murky as a smithy ; raihng at French 
chimneys, French masons, and French architects; giving a 
poke at the end of every sentence, as though he were stirring 
up the very bowels of the delinquents he is anathematizing. 



SKETCHES IN PARIS IN 1825. 89 

He lives in a state noilitant with inanimate objects around him ; 
gets into high dudgeon with doors and casements, because they 
"will not come under Enghsh law, and has implacable feuds 
with sundry refractory pieces of furniture. Among these is 
one in particular Avith which he is sure to have a high quarrel 
every time he goes to dress. It is a commode, one of those 
smooth, polished, plausible pieces of French furniture, that 
have the perversity of five hundred devils. Each drawer has a 
will of its own ; will open or not, just as the whim takes it, and 
sets lock and key at defiance. Sometimes a drawer will refuse 
to yield to either persuasion or force, and will part with both, 
handles rather than yield ; another will come out in the most 
coy and coquettish maimer imaginable; elbowing along, zig- 
zag ; one corner retreating as the other advances ; making a 
thousand difficulties and objections at every move ; until the 
old gentleman, out of all patience, gives a sudden jerk, and 
brings drawer and contents into the middle of the floor. 
His hostihty to this unlucky piece of furniture increases every 
day, as if incensed that it does not grow better. He is like the 
fretful invalid who cursed his bed, that the longer he lay the 
harder it grew. The only benefit he has derived from the 
quarrel is, that it has furnished him Avith a crusty joke, which 
he utters on all occasions. He swears that a French commode 
is the most incommodious tlnixig in existence, and that although 
the nation cannot make a joint-stool that will stand steady, yet 
they are always talking of everything's being perfectionee. 

His servants understand his humor, and avail themselves of 
it. He was one day disturbed by a pertinacious rattling and 
shaking at one of the doors, and bawled out in an angry tone 
to know the cause of the disturbance. "Sir," said the foot- 
man, testily, "it's tliis confounded French lock!" " Ah!" said 
the old gentleman, pacified by this hit at the nation, ' ' I 
thought there was somethuig French at the bottom of it !" 

ENGLISH AND FRENCH CHARACTER. 

As I am a mere looker-on in Europe, and hold myself as 
much as possible aloof from its quarrels and prejudices, I feel 
something like one overlooking a game, who, without any 
great skill of his own, can occasionally perceive the blunders 
of much abler players. This neutrahty of feeling enables me 
to enjoy the contrasts of character presented in this time of 
general peace, when the various people of Europe, who have so 



90 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

long been sundered by wars, are brought together and placed 
side by side in this gi-eat gathering-place of nations. No 
gi-eater contrast, however, is exhibited than that of the 
French and English. The peace has deluged this gay capital 
Avith English \'isitors of all ranks and conditions. They 
throng every place of curiosity and amusement ; fill the pub- 
he gardens, the galleries, the cafes, saloons, theatres; alw«,ys 
herding together, never associating with the French. The 
two nations are hke two thi-eads of different colors, tangled 
together but never blended. 

- In fact, they present a continual antithesis, and seem to value 
themselves upon being unlike each other ; yet each have their 
peculiar merits, which should entitle them to each other's 
esteem. The French intellect is quick and active. It flashes 
its way into a subject with the rapidity of hghtning ; seizes 
upon remote conclusions with a sudden bound, and its deduc- 
tions are almost intiiitive. The English intellect is less rapid, 
but more persevering ; less sudden, but more sure in its deduc- 
tions. The quickness and mobihty of the French enable them 
to find enjoyment in the multiplicity of sensations. They 
speak and act more from immediate impressions than from 
reflection and meditation. They are therefore more social and 
communicative; more fond of society, and of places of public 
resort and amusement. An Englishman is more reflective in 
his habits. He lives in the world of his own thoughts, and 
seems more self-existent and self-dependent. He loves the 
quiet of his own apartment ; even when abroad, he in a man- 
ner makes a little solitude around him, by his silence and 
reserve; he moves about shy and solitary, and as it were 
buttoned up, body and soul. 

The French are great optimists ; they seize upon every good 
as it fhes, and revel in the passing pleasure. The Englishman 
is too apt to neglect the present good, in preparing against the 
possible evil. However adversities may lower, let the sun 
shine but for a moment, and forth sallies the mercurial French- 
man, in holiday dress and holiday spirits, gay as a butterfly, 
as though his sunshine were perpetual ; but let the sun beam 
never so brightly, so there be but a cloud in the horizon, the 
wary Englishman ventures forth distrustfully, with his um- 
brella in his hand. 

The Frenchman has a wonderful facility at turning small 
things to advantage. No one can be gay and luxurious on 
smaller means ; no one requires less expense to be happy. He 



SKFAVIIES IN PARIS IN 1825. 9t 

practises a kind of gilding in liis style of living, and hammers 
out every guinea into gold leaf. The Englishman, on the con- 
trary, is expensive in his habits, and expensive in his enjoy- 
ments. He values everything, whether useful or ornamental, 
by what it costs. He has no satisfaction in show, unless it be 
soHd and complete. Everything goes with him by the square 
foot. Whatever display he makes, the depth is sure to equal 
the surface. 

The Frenchman's habitation, like himself, is open, cheerful, 
bustling, and noisy. He lives in a part of a great hotel, with 
wide portal, paved court, a spacious dirty stone staircase, and 
a family on every floor. AU is clatter and chatter. He is good 
humored and talkative with his servants, sociable with his 
neighbors, and complaisant to all the world. Anybody has 
access to himself and his apartments; his very bed -room is 
open to visitors, whatever may be its state of confusion ; and 
all this not from any pecuharly hospitable feehng, but from 
that communicative habit which predominates over his char- 
acter. 

The Englishman, on the contrary, ensconces Mmself in a snug 
brick mansion, which he has all to himself; locks the front 
door ; puts broken bottles along his walls, and spring-guns and 
man-traps in his gardens; shrouds himself with trees and 
window-curtains; exults in his quiet and privacy, and seems 
disposed to keep out noise, daylight, and company. His house, 
like himself, has a reserved, inhospitable exterior ; yet whoever 
gains admittance is apt to find a warm heart and warm fireside 
within. 

Tlie French excel in wit, the Enghsh in humor; the French 
have gayer fancy, the English richer imagination. The former 
are full of sensibility ; easily moved, and prone to sudden and 
great excitement; but their excitement is not durable; the 
English are more phlegmatic ; not so readily affected, but capa- 
ble of being aroused to great enthusiasm. The faults of these 
opposite temperaments are that the vivacity of the French is 
apt to sparkle up and be frothy, the gravity of the English to 
settle down and grow muddy. When the two characters can 
be fixed in a medium, the French kept from effervescence and 
the English from stagnation, both will be found excellent. 

This contrast of character may also be noticed in the great 
concerns of the two nations. The ardent Frenchman is all for 
military renown ; he fights for glory, that is to say for success 
in arms. For, provided the national flag is victorious, he cares 



92 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

little about the expense, the injustice, or the inutility of the 
war. It is wonderiul how the poorest Frenchman will revel on 
a triumphant bulletin ; a great victory is meat and drink to 
him ; and at the sight of a military sovereign, bringing home 
captured cannon and captured standards, he throws up his 
greasy cap in the aii*, and is ready to jump out of his wooden 
shoes for joy. 

John Bull, on the contrary, is a reasoning, considerate poi'- 
son. If he does wrong, it is in the most rational way imagin- 
able. He fights because the good of the world requires it. He 
is a moral person, and makes war upon his neighbor for the 
maintenance of peace and good order, and sound principles. 
He is a money-making personage, and fights for the prosperity 
of commerce and manufactures. Thus the two nations have 
been fighting, time out of mind, for glory and good. The 
French, in pursuit of glory, have had their capital twice taken ; 
and John in i^ursuit of good, has run himself over head and 
ears in debt. 

THE TUILERIES AND WINDSOR CASTLE. 

I HAVE sometimes fancied I could discover national charac- 
teristics in national edifices. In the Chateau of the Tuileries, 
for instance, I perceive the same jumble of contrarieties that 
marks the Fi'ench character ; the same whimsical mixture of 
the great and the little ; the splendid and the paltry, the sub- 
lime and the grotesque. On visiting this famous piie, the first 
tiling that strikes both eye and ear is military display. The 
courts glitter with steel-clad soldiery, and resound with the 
tramp of horse, the roll of drum, and the bray of trumpet. 
Dismounted guardsmen patrol its arcades, with loaded carbines, 
jingling spurs, and clanking sabres. Gigantic grenadiers are 
posted about its staircases: young officers of the guards loll 
from the balconies, or lounge in groups upon the terraces ; and 
the gleam of bayonet from window to window, shows that 
sentinels are pacing up and down the corridors and ante- 
chambers. The first floor is brilliant mth the splendors of a 
court. French taste has tasked itself m adorning the sump- 
tuous suites of apartments; nor are the gilded chapel and the 
splendid theatre forgotten, Avhei-e piety and pleasure are next- 
door neighbors, and harmonize together with perfect French 
hiens6ance. 

Mingled up with all this regal and military magnificence, is 



SKETCHES IN PARIS IN 1825. 93 

a world of whimsical and makeshift detail. A great part of 
the huge edifice is cut up into little chambers and nestling- 
places for retainers of the court, dependants on retainers, and 
hangers-on of dependants. Some are squeezed into naiTow 
entresols, those low, dark, intermediate shoes of apartments 
between floors, the inhabitants of wliich seem shoved in edge- 
ways, like books between narrow shelves ; others are perched 
like swallows, undes the eaves ; the high roofs, too, which are 
as tall and steep as a French cocked-hat, have rows of little 
dormer wuidows, tier above tier, just large enough to admit 
hght and air for some dormitory, and to enable its occupant 
to peep out at the sky. Even to the very ridge of the roof, 
may be seen here and there one of these air-holes, with a stove- 
pipe beside it, to carry off the smoke from the handful of fuel 
with which its weazen-faced tenant simmers his demi-tasse of 
coffee. 

On approaching the palace from the Pont Eoyal, you take in 
at a glance all the various strata of inhabitants ; the garreteer 
in the roof ; the retainer in the entresol ; the courtiers at the 
casements of the royal apai-tments ; while on the gi-ound-floor 
a steam of savory odors and a score or two of cooks, in white 
caps, bobbing their heads about the windows, betray that 
scientific and all-miportant laboratory, the Royal Kitchen. 

Go into the grand ante-chamber of the royal apartments on 
Sunday and see the mixture of Old and New France ; the old 
emigi-es, returned with the Boui-bons ; little withered, spindle- 
shanked old noblemen, clad in court dresses, that figured in 
these saloons before the revolution, and have been carefully 
treasured up duiing their exile ; with the solitaii'es and ailes cle 
pigeon of former days ; and the court swords strutting out be- 
hind, like pins stuck through dry bottles. See them haunting 
the scenes of their former splendor, in hopes of a restitution of 
estates, like ghosts haunting the vicinity of buried treasure ; 
while around them you see the Young France, that have grown 
up in the fighting school of Napoleon ; all equipped en militaire; 
tall, hardy, frank, vigorous, sun-burned, fierce- whiskered ; 
with tramping boots, towering crests, and glittering breast- 
plates. 

It is incredible the number of ancient and hereditary feedei'S 
on royalty said to be housed in this establishment. Indeed all 
the royal palaces abound with noble families returned from 
exile, and who have nestling-places allotted them while they 
await the restoration of their estates, or the much-talked-of 



94 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

law, indemnity. Some of them have fine quarters, but poor 
hviijg. Some famiHes have but five or six hundred francs a 
j^ear, and all their retinue consists of a servant woman. With 
all tnis, they maintain their old aristocratical hauteur, look 
do^\Ti with vast contempt upon the optdcnt families which have 
risen since the revolution ; stigmatize them all as parvenus, or 
upstarts, and refuse to visit them. 

In regarding the exterior of the Tuileries, with all its out- 
ward signs of internal populousness, I have often thought 
what a rare sight it w juld be to see it suddenly unroofed, and 
all its nooks and corners laid open to the day. It would be 
like turning up the stmnp of an old tree, and dislodging the 
world of ginibs, and ants, and beetles lodged beneath. Indeed 
there is a scandalous anecdote current, that in the time of one 
of the petty plots, when petards were exploded under the win- 
dows of the Tuilex'ies, the pohce made a sudden mvestigation 
of the palace at four o'clock in the morning, when a scene of 
the most whimsical confusion ensued. Hosts of supernume- 
rary inhabitants were found foisted into the huge edifice; 
every rat-hole had its occupant; and places which had been 
considered as tenanted only by spiders, were found crowded 
with a surreptitious population. It is added, that many ludi- 
crous accidents occm-red ; great scampering and slamming of 
doors, and whisking away in night-go^^'^lS and slippers; and 
several persons, Avho were found by accident in their neigh- 
bors' chambers, evinced indubitable astonishment at the cir- 
cumstance. 

As I have fancied I could read the French character in the 
national palace of the Tuileries, so I have pictured to myself 
some of the traits of John Bull in his royal abode of Windsor 
Castle. The Tuileries, outwardly a peaceful palace, is in effect 
a swaggering military hold ; while the old castle, on the con- 
trary, in sjjite of its bullying look, is completely under petti- 
coat government. Every corner and nook is buUt up into 
some snug, cosy nestling-place, some "procreant cradle," not 
tenanted by meagre expectants or whiskered warriors, but by 
sleek placemen ; knowing realizers of present pay and present 
pudding; who seem placed there not to kill and destroy, but 
to breed and multiply. Nursery -maids and children shine 
with rosy faces at the windows, and swarm about the courts 
and terraces. The very soldiers have a pacific look, and when 
off duty may be seen loitering about the place with the nursery- 
maids ; not making love to them in the gay gallant style of the 



SKKTGIIICS IN PARIS IN 1825. , 95 

French soldiery, but with infinite bonhomie aiding them to 
take care of the broods of children. 

Though the old castle is in decay, everything about it thrives ; 
the very crevices of the walls are tenanted by swallows, rooks, 
and pigeons, all sure of quiet lodgment; the ivy strikes its 
roots deep in the fissures, and flourishes about the mouldering 
tower.* Thus it is with honest John; according to his own 
account, he is ever going to ruin, yet everythmg that hves on 
him, thrives and waxes fat. He would fain be a soldier, and 
swagger like his neighbors; but his domestic, quiet-loving, 
uxorious nature continually gets the upper hand ; and though 
he may mount his helmet and gird on his sword, yet he is apt 
to sink into the plodding, pains-taking father of a family ; with 
a troop of children at his heels, and his women-kind hanging 
on each arm. 

THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 

I HAVE spoken heretofore with some levity of the contrast 
that exists between the English and French character ; but it 
deserves more serious consideration. They are the two great 
nations of modern times most diametrically opposed, and most 
worthy of each other's rivalry; essentially distinct in their 
characters, excelling in opposite qualities, and reflecting lustre 
on each other by their very opposition. In nothing is this con- 
trast more strildngly evinced than in their nailitary conduct. 
For ages have they been contending, and for ages have they 
crowded each other's history with acts of splendid heroism. 
Take the battle of Waterloo, for instance, the last and most 
memorable trial of their rival prowess. Nothmg could surpass 
the biilhant daring on the one side, and the steadfast enduring 
on the other. The French cavalry broke like waves on the 
compact squares of English infantry. They were seen gallop- 
ing round those serried walls of men, seeking in vain for an 
entrance; tossing their arms in the air, in the heat of their 
enthusiasm, and braving the whole front of battle. The 
British troops, on the other hand, forbidden to move or fire, 
stood firm and enduring. Their columns were ripped up by 
cannonry; whole rows were swept down at a shot; the sur- 
vivors closed their ranks, and stood firm. In this way many 

*Tlie above sketch was written before the thorough repairs and magniflcent 

acl'litioiia that have lieen made of late years to Windsor Castle. 



96 TUE CRAYON PAPERS. 

columns stood through the pelting of the iron temi)est without 
firing a shot ; A\athout any action to stir their blood, or excite 
their spirits. Death thinned their ranks, but could not shake 
their souls. 

A beautifiil mstance of the quick and generous impulses to 
which the French are prone, is given in the case of a French 
cavalier, in the hottest of the action, charging furiously upon a 
British officer, but perceiving ui the moment of assault that his 
adversary had lost his sword-ai-m, dropping the point of his 
sabre, and courteously riding on. Peace be with that generous 
wari'ior, whatever were liis fate! K he went down in tho 
storm of battle, with the fomidering fortunes of his cliief taia, 
may the tui'f of Waterloo grow green above liis grave I and 
happier far would be the fate of such a spirit, to sink amid the 
tempest, unconscious of defeat, than to survive, and moui*n 
over the bhghted laurels of his country. 

In this way the two armies fought through a long and bloody 
day. The French with enthusiastic valor, the Enghsh with 
cool, inflexible courage, until Fate, as if to leave the question 
of superiority still undecided between two such advei'saries, 
brought up the Prussians to decide the fortunes of the field. 

It was several years afterward that I Adsited the field of 
Waterloo. The ploughshare had been busy with its oblivious 
labors, and the frequent harvest had nearly obliterated the 
vestiges of war. Still the blackened ruins of Hoguemont stood, 
a monumental pile, to mark the violence of tliis vehement 
struggle. Its broken walls, pierced by bullets, and shattered 
by explosions, showed the deadly strife that had taken place 
within; when Gaul and Briton, hemmed in between narrow 
walls, hand to hand and foot to foot, fought from garden to 
court-yard, from court-yard to chamber, with intense and con- 
centrated rivalship. Columns of smoke towered from this 
vortex of battle as from a volcano: "itw^as," said my guide, 
"like a httle hell upon earth." Not far off, two or three broad 
spots of rank, unwholesoine green still marked the places 
where these rival warriors, after then- fierce and fitful struggle, 
slept quietly together in the lap of their common mother earth. 
Over all the rest of the field peace had resumed its sway. The 
thoughtless whistle of the peasant floated on the air, instead of 
the trumpet's clangor; the team slowly lahored up the hill-side, 
once shaken by the hoofs of rushing squadrons; and wild fields 
of corn waved peacefully over the soldiers' graves, as summer 
Beas dimple over the place where many a tall shij^ lies buried. 



SKETCHES IN PARIS IN 1825. 97 

To the foregoing desultory notes on the French military 
character, let me append a few traits which I picked up ver- 
bally in one of the French provinces. They may have already 
appeared in print, but I have never met with them. 

At the breaking out of the revolution, when so many of the 
old families emigrated, a descendant of the gi'eat Turenne, by 
the name of De Latour D'Auvergne, refused to accompany his 
relations, and entered into the RepubUcan army. He served 
in all the campaigns of the revolution, distinguished himself 
by his valor, his accomj^hshments, and his generous spirit, and 
might have risen to fortune and to the highest honors. He 
refused, however, all rank in the army, above that of captain, 
and would receive no recompense for his achievements but a 
sword of honor. Napoleon, in testimony of his merits, gave 
him the title of Premier Grenadier de France (First Grenadier 
of France), which was the only title he would ever bear. He 
was killed in Germany, in 1809 or '10. To honor his memory, 
his place was alwa3'S retained in his regiment, as if he stUl oc- 
cupied it ; and whenever the reghnent was mustered, and the 
name of De Latour D'Auvergne was called out, the reply was, 
" Dead on the field of honor!" 



PARIS AT THE RESTORATION. 

Paris presented a singular aspect just after the downfall of 
Napoleon, and the restoration of the Bourbons. It was filled 
with a restless, roaming population; a dark, sallow race, with 
fierce moustaches, black cravats, and feverish, menacmg 
looks; men suddenly thrown out of employ by the return of 
peace; officers cut short in their career, and cast loose with 
scanty means, many of them in utter indigence, upon the 
world; the broken elements of armies. They haunted the 
places' of public resort, like restless, unhappy spirits, taking 
no pleasure; hanging about, like lowering clouds that linger 
after a storm, and giving a smgular air of gloom to this other- 
wise gay metropolis. 

The vaunted courtesy of the old school, the smooth urbanity 
that pi:evailed m former days of settled government and long- 
established aristocracy, had disappeared amid the savage re- 
pubhcamsm of the revolution and the mihtary furor of the 
empire; recent reverses had stung the national vanity to the 
qmck; and English travellers, who crowded to Paris on the 
return of peace, expecting to meet with a gay, good-hiunored, 



98 



THE CRA TON PAPERS. 



complaisant populace, such as existed in the time of the " Sen- 
timental Journey," were surprised at finding them iiritable 
and fractious, quick at fancying affronts, and not unapt to 
offer insults. They accordingly inveighed with heat and bit- 
terness al the rudeness they experienced in the French 
metropolis; yet what better had they to expect? Had Charles 
II. been reinstated in his kingdom by the valor of French 
troops; had he been wheeled triumphantly to London over 
the trampled bodies and trampled standards of England's 
bravest sons; had a French general dictated to the Enghsh 
capital, and a French army been quartered in Hyde-Park ; had 
Paris poured forth its motley population, and the wealthy 
bourgeoisie of every French trading town swarmed to London; 
crowding its squares; filling its streets with their equipages; 
thronging its fashionable hotels, and places of amusements; 
elbowing its impoverished nobility out of their palaces and 
opera-boxes, and looking down on the Immiliated inhabitants 
as a conquered people ; in such a reverse of the case, what degree 
of courtesy would the populace of London have been apt to 
exercise toward their visitors? * 

On the contrary, I have always admired the degree of mag- 
nanimity exhibited by the French on the occupation of their 
capital by the English. When we consider the mihtary ambi- 
tion of this nation, its love of glory; the splendid height to 
wlaich its renown in arms had recently been carried, and with 
these, the tremendous reverses it had just undergone; its 
armies shattered, annihilated ; its capital captured, garrisoned, 
and overrun, and that too by its ancient rival, the English, 
toward whom it had cherished for centuries a jealous and 
almost religious hostility ; could we have wondered if the tiger 
8pii"it of tliis fiery people had broken out in bloody feuds and 
deadly quari'ols ; and that they had sought to rid themselves 
in any way of their invaders? But it is cowardly nations only, 
tliose who dare not wield the sword, that revenge themselves 
with the lurking dagger. There were no assassinations in 
Paris. The French had fought valiantly, desperately, in the 
field ; but, when valor was no longer of avail, they submitted 
like gallant men to a fate they could not Avithstand. Some in- 
stances of insult from the populace were experienced by their 

* The above remarks were suggested by a conversation with the late Mr. Can- 
nintc, whom the author met in Paris, and who expressed himself in the most liberal 
way concerning the niagiianimit5' of the French on the occupation of their capita] 
by strangers. 



SKETCHES IN PARIS IN 1835. 99 

English visitors ; some personal rencontres, which led to duels, 
did take place ; but these smacked of open and honorable hos- 
tility. No instances of lurking and perfidious revenge oc- 
curred, and the British soldier patrolled the streets of Paris 
safe from treacherous assault. 

If the Enghsh met with harshness and repulse in social inter- 
course, it was in some degree a proof that the people are more 
sincere than has been represented. The emigrants who had 
just returned, were not yet reinstated. Society was constituted 
of those who had flourished under the late regime ; the newly 
ennobled, the recently enriched, who felt their prosperity and 
their ^consequence endangered by this change of things. The 
broken-do^vn oflBcer, who saw his glory tarnished, liLs fortune 
ruined, his occupation gone, could not be expected to look with 
complacency upon the authors of his downfall. The English 
ATisitor, flushed ivith health, and wealth, and victory, could 
littla enter into the feelings of the bhghted warrior, scarred 
with a hundred battles, an exile from the camp, broken in con- 
stitution by the wars, impoverished by the peace, and cast 
back, a needy stranger in the splendid but captured metropolis 
of his coimtry. 

" Oh! who can tell what heroes feel, 
When all but life and honor's lost!" 

And here let me notice the conduct of the French soldiery 
on the dismemberment of the army of the Loire, when tAvo 
hundred thousand men were suddenly thrown out of employ ; 
men who had been brought up to the camp, and scarce knew 
any other home. Few in civil, peaceful life, are aware of the 
severe trial to the feelings that takes place on the dissolution 
of a regiment. There is a fraternity in arms. The community 
of dangers, hardships, enjoyments; the participation in battles 
and victories ; the companionship in adventures, at a time of 
life when men's feelings are most fresh, susceptible, and ardent, 
all these bind the members of a regiment strongly together. 
To them the regiment is friends, family, home. They identify 
themselves Avith its fortunes, its glories, its disgraces. Imagine 
this romantic tie suddenly dissolved ; the regiment broken up ; 
the occupation of its members gone ; their military pride mor- 
tified ; the career of glory closed behind them ; that of obscurity, 
dependence, want, neglect, perhaps beggary, before them. 
Such was the case with the soldiers of the Army of the Loire. 
They were sent off in squads, with oflScere, to the principal 



100 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

towns where they were to be disarmed and discharged. In 
this way they passed through the country Avith arms in their 
hands, often exposed to shghts and scoffs, to hunger and vari- 
ous hardships and privations ; but they conducted themselves 
magnanimously, without any of those outbreaks of violence 
and wrong that so often attend the dismemberment of armies. 



The few years that have elapsed since the time above alluded 
to, have already had their effect. The proud and angry spirits 
which then roamed about Paris unemployed have cooled down 
and fornid occupation. The national character begins to re- 
cover its old channels, though worn deeper by recent torrents. 
The natural urbanity of the French begins to find its way, like 
oil, to the surface, though there still remains a degree of rough- 
ness and bluntness of manner, partly real, and partly affected, 
by such as imagine it to indicate force and frankness. The 
events of the last thu-ty years have rendered the French a 
more reflecting people. They have acquired greater mdepen- 
dence of mind and strength of judgment, together with a por- 
tion of that prudence which results from experiencing the 
dangerous consequences of excesses. However that period 
may have been stained by crimes, and filled with extrava- 
gances, the French have certainly come out of it a greater 
nation than before. One of their own philosophers observes 
that in one or two generations the nation will probably com- 
bine the ease and elegance of the old character with force and 
solidity. They were light, he saj^s, before the revolution; then 
Avild and savage ; they have become more thoughtful and re- 
flective. It is only old Frenchmen, now-a-days, that are gay 
and trivial; the young are very serious personages. 



P.S. In the course of a morning's walk, about the time the 
above remarks were written, I observed the Duke of Wellington, 
who was on a brief visit to Paris. He was alone, simply attired 
in a blue frock ; -with an umbrella under his arm, and his hat 
drawn over his eyes, and sauntermg across the Place Ven- 
dome, close by the Column of Napoleon. He gave a glance up 
at the column as he passed, and continued his loitering way up 
the R^^e de la Paix ; stopping occasionally to gaze in at the 
shop-windows; elbowed now and then by other gazers, Avho 
little suspected that the qidet, lounging individual they went 
jostling so unceremoniously, was the conqueror who had tA^ace 



AMERICAN RESEARCH KS IN IT ALT. Id 

entered the capital victoriously ; had controlled the destinies 
of the nation, and echpsed the glory of the military idol, at the 
base of whose column he was thus neghgently sauntering. 

Some years afterward I was at an evening's entertainment 
given by the Duke at Apsley House, to Wilham IV. The Duke 
had manifested his admii-ation of his great adversary, by 
having portraits of him in different parts of the house. At 
the bottom of the grand staircase, stood the colossal statue of 
the Emperor, by Canova. It was of marble, in the antique 
style, with one arm partly extended, holding a figiu-e of vic- 
tory. Over this arm the ladies, in tripping up stairs to the 
baU, had thrown their shawls. It^was a singular oflS.ce for the 
statue of Napoleon to perform in the mansion of the Duke of 
WelHngton ! 

" Imperial Caesar dead, and turned to clay," etc., etc. 



AMEEICAN RESEARCHES IN ITALY. 

LIFE OF TASSO: RECOVERY OP A LOST PORTRAIT OF DANTE. 

To the Editor of the Knickerbocker: 

Sir : Permit me through the pages of your magazine to call 
the attention of the pubMc to the learned and elegant re- 
searches in Europe of one of our countrymen, Mr. R. H. 
Wilde, of Georgia, formerly a member of the House of Repre- 
sentatives. After leaving Congress, Mr. Wilde a few years 
since spent about eighteen months in travelling through differ- 
ent parts of Europe, until he became stationary for a time in 
Tuscany. Here he occupied himself with researches concern- 
ing the private Mfe of Tasso, whose mysterious and romantic 
love for the Princess Leonora, his madness and imprisonment, 
had recently become the theme of a literary controversy, not 
yet ended ; curious in itself, and rendered still more curious by 
some alleged manuscripts of the poet's, brought forward by 
Count Alberti. Mr. Wilde entered into the investigation with 
the enthusiasm of a poet, and the patience and accuracy of a 
case-himter; and has produced a work now in the press, in 
which the " vexed questions" concerning Tasso are most ably 
discussed, and lights tlirown upon them by liis letters, and by 
various of his sonnets, which last are rendered into English 



102 THE CRAYON rAPERS. 

with rare felicity. While Mr. Wilde was occupied upon this 
work, he became acquainted with Signor Carlo Liverati, an 
artist of considerable merit, and especially well versed in the 
antiquitie.5 of Florence. This gentleman mentioned inciden- 
tally one day, in the course of conversation, that there once 
and probably still existed in the Bargello, anciently both the 
prison and the palace of the repubHc, an authentic portrait of 
Dante. It was believed to be in fresco, on a wall which after- 
ward, by some strange neglect or inadvertency, had been cov- 
ered with whitewash. Signor Liverati mentioned the circtmi- 
stance merely to deplore the loss of so precious a portrait, an '. 
to regret the almost utter hopelessness of its recovery. 

As Mr. Wilde had not as yet imbibed that enthusiastic 
admii-ation for Dante which possesses all Itahans, by whom 
the poet is almost worshipped, this conversation made but a 
shght impression on him at the time. Subsequently, how' 
ever, his researches concerning Tasso being ended, he began 
to amuse his leisure hours with attempts to translate some 
specimens of Itahan lyric poetry, and to compose very short 
biograpliical sketches of the authors. In these specimens, 
which as yet exist only in manuscript, he has shown the same 
critical knowledge of the Itahan language, and admirable 
command of the English, that characterize his translations 
of Tasso. He had not advanced far in these exercises, when 
the obscure and contradictory accomits of many incidents in 
the life of Dante caused him much embarrassment, and 
sorely piqued his curiosity. About the same time he received, 
through the courtesy of Don Neri dei Principi Corsini, what 
he had long most fervently desired, a permission from the 
Grand Duke to pursue his investigations in the secret archives 
of Florence, with power to obtain copies therefrom. This was 
a rich and almost unwrought mine of hterary research ; for to 
Italians themselves, as well as to foreigners, their archives for 
the most part have been long inaccessible. For two years 
Mr. Wilde devoted himself with indefatigable ardor to ex- 
plore the records of the republic during the time of Dante. 
These being written in barbarous Latin and semi-Gothic 
characters, on parchment more or less discolored and muti- 
lated, with ink sometimes faded, were rendered stiU more 
illegible by the arbitrary abbreviations of the notaries. They 
require, in fact, an especial study; few even of the officers 
employed in the ^^ Archivio delle Riformagione''' can read them 
currently and correctly. 



AMERICAN RESKAECEES JN ITALY. 103 

Mr. Wilde however persevered in his laborious task with 
a patience severely tried, but invincible. Being without ap 
index, each file, each book, required to be examined page by 
page, to ascertain whether any particular of the immortal 
poet's political life had escaped the untiring industry of his 
countrymen. This toil was not wholly fruitless, and several 
interesting facts obscurely known, and others utterly un 
known by the Italians themselves, are di'awn forth by ]\Ir. 
Wilde from the obhvion of these archives. 

While thus engaged, the circumstance of the lost portrait 
of Dante was again brought to Mr. Wilde's mind, but now 
excited intense interest. In perusing the notes of the late 
learned Canonico Moreri on Filelfo's hfe of Dante, he found 
it stated that a portrait of the poet by Giotto was formerly 
to be seen in the Bargello. Ho learned also that Signor 
Scotti, who has charge of the original drawings of the old 
masters in the imperial and royal gallery, had made several 
years previously an ineffectual attempt to set on foot a project 
for the recovery of the lost treasure. Here was a new vem 
of inquiry, which Mr. Wilde followed up with his usual energy 
and sagacity. He soon satisfied himself, by reference to 
Vasari, and to the still more ancient and decisive authority 
of Filippo Villari, who hved shortly after the poet, that Giotto, 
the friend and contemporary of Dante, did undoubtedly paint 
his likeness in the place indicated. Giotto died in 1336, but 
as Dante was banished, and was even sentenced to be burned, 
in 1302, it was obvious the work must have been executed 
before that time ; since the portrait of one outlawed and capi- 
tally convicted as an enemy to the commonwealth would 
never have been ordered or tolerated in the chapel of the 
royal palace. It was clear, then, that the portrait must have 
been painted between 1290 and 1302. 

Mr. Wilde now revolved in his own mind the possibility 
that this precious rehc might remain undestroyed under its 
coat of whitewash, and might yet be restored to the world. 
For a naoment he felt an impiilse to undertake the enterprise ; 
but feared that, in a foreigner from a new world, any part of 
which is unrepresented at the Tuscan court, it might appear 
like an intrusion. He soon however found a zealous coadjutor. 
This was one Giovanni Aubrey Bezzi, a Piedmontese exile, 
who had long been a resident in England, and was familiar 
with its language and hterature. He was now on a visit to 
Florence, wliich liberal and hospitable city is always open to 



104 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

inon of merit who for political reasons have been excluded 
from other parts of Italy. Signer Bezzi partook deeply of the 
enthusiasm of his countrymen for the memory of Dante, and 
sjnnpathized with Mr. Wilde in liis eagerness to retrieve if pos- 
sible the lost portrait. They had several consultations as to 
tlie means to be adopted to effect their purpose, without in- 
curring the cliarge of midue officiousness. To lessen any ob- 
jections that might occur, they resolved to ask for nothing but 
permission to search for the fresco painting at their own ex- 
pense ; and should any remains of it be found, then to propose 
to the nobility and gentry of Florence an association for the 
purpose of completing the undertaking, and effectually recover- 
ing the lost portrait. 

For the same reason the formal memorial addressed to the 
Grand Duke was drawn up in the nam.e of Florentines ; among 
whom were the celebrated Bartolini, now President of the 
School of Sculptiire in the Imperial and Royal Academy, Sig- 
nor Paolo Ferroni, of the noble family of that name, who haa 
exhibited considerable talent for painting, and Signer Gas- 
parini, also an artist. This petition was urged and supported 
with indefatigable zeal by Signer Bezzi; and being warmly 
countenanced by Count Nerh and other functionaries, met 
with more prompt success than had been anticipated. Signer 
Marini, a skilful artist, who had succeeded in similar opera- 
tions, was now employed to remove the whitewash by a pro- 
cess of his own, by which any fresco painting that might exist 
beneath would be protected from injury. He set to work 
patiently and cautiously. In a short time he met with evi- 
dence of the existence of the fresco. From under the coat 
of whitewash the head of an angel gradually made its appear- 
ance, and was pronounced to be by the pencil of Giotto. 

The enterprise was now prosecuted with increased ardor- 
Several months were expended on the task, and three sides 
of the chapel wall were uncovered ; they were all painted in 
fresco by Giotto, with the history of the Magdalen, exhibiting 
her conversion, her penance, and her beatification. The fig- 
ures, however, were all those of saints and angels ; no histori- 
cal portraits had yet been discovered, and doubts began to 
be entertained whether there were any. Still the recovery 
of an indisputable work of Giotto's was considered an ample 
reward for any toil; and the Ministers of the Grand Duke, 
acting under liis directions, assumed on his behalf the past 
charges and future management of the enterprise. 



AMERTCAN RESEARCHES IN IT ALT. 105 

At length, on the uncovering of the fourth wall, the under- 
taking was crowned with complete success. A numher of 
historical figures were brought to light, and among them the 
undoubted likeness of Dante. He was represented in full 
length, in the garb of the time, with a book under his arm, 
designed most probably to represent the "Vita Nuova," for 
the "Comedia" was not yet composed, and to all appearance 
fi-om tliirty to thirty-five years of age. The face was in profile, 
and in excellent preservation, excepting that at some forme t 
period a naii had unfortunately been driven into the eye. The 
outhne of the eyelid was perfect, so that the injmy could 
easily be remedied. The countenance was extremely hand, 
some, yet bore a strong resemblance to the portraits of the 
poet taken later in life. 

It is not easy to appreciate the delight of Mr. Wilde and hi& 
coadjutors at this triumphant result of their researches; nor 
the sensation produced, not merely in Florence but throughout 
Italy, by this discovery of a veritable portrait of Dante, in the 
prime of his days. It was some such sensation as would be 
produced in England by the sudden discovery of a perfectly 
well authenticated likeness of Shakespeare ; with a (^erencG 
in intensity proportioned to the superior sensitiveness of tha 
Italians. 

The recovery of this portrait of the "divine poet" has occa- 
sioned fresh inquiry into the origin of the masks said to have 
been made from a cast of his face taken after death. One of 
these masks, in the possession of the Marquess of Torrigiani, 
has been pronounced as certainly the original. Several artists 
of high talent have concurred in this opinion; among these 
may be named Jesi, the first engraver in Florence ; Seymour 
Kii'kup, Esq., a painter and antiquary; and our own country- 
man Powers, whose genius, by the way, is very highly appre- 
ciated by the ItaHans. 

We may expect from the accompHshed pen of Carlo Torrigi- 
ani, son of the Marquess, and who is advantageously known in 
this country, from having travelled here, an account of this 
curious and valuable relic, which has been upward of a centmy 
in the possession of his family. 

Should Mr. Wilde finish his biographical work concerning 
Dante, which promises to be a proud achievement in American 
literature, he intends, I understand, to apply for permission to 
have both likenesses copied, and shoidd circumstances warrant 
the expense, to have them engi*aved by eminent artists. We 



;|06 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

shall then have the features of Dante while in the prime of life 
as well as at the moment of his death. G. C. 



THE TAKING OF THE VEIL. 

One of the most remarkable personages in Parisian society 
dm-ing the last century was Eenee Charlotte Victoire de Frou- 
lay De Tesse, Marchioness De Creqm. She sprang from the 
highest and proudest of the old French nobility, and ever 
maintained the most exalted notions of the purity and anti- 
quity of blood, looking upon all families that could not date 
back further than three or four hundred years as mere up- 
starts. When a beautiful girl, fourteen years of age, she was 
presented to Louis XIV., at Versailles, and the ancient mon- 
arch kissed her hand with great gallantry ; after an interval of 
about eighty-five years, when nearly a hundred years old, the 
same testimonial of respect was paid her at the TuUeries by 
Bonaparte, then First Consul, who promised her the restitution 
of the confiscated forests formerly belonging to her familj-. 
She was one of the most celebrated women of her time for in- 
tellectual gi-ace and superiority, and had the courage to remain 
at Paris and brave all the horrors of the revolution, which laid 
waste the aristocratical world around her. 

The memoirs she has left behind abound with curious anec- 
dotes and vivid pictures of Parisian hfe during the latter days 
of Louis XIV., the regency of the Duke of Orleans, and the 
residue of the last century ; and are highly illustrative of the 
pride, splendor, and Ucentiousness of the French nobihty on 
the very eve of their tremendous downfall. 

I shall draw forth a few scenes from her memoirs, taken 
almost at random, and which, though given as actual and well- 
known circumstances, have quite the air of romance. 



AU the great world of Paris were invited to be present at a 
grand ceremonial, to take place in the church of the Abbey 
Royal of Panthemont. Henrietta de Lenoncour, a young girl, 
of a noble family, of great beauty, and heiress to immense 
estates, was to take the black veil. Invitations had been issued 
in grand form, by her aunt and guardian, the Countess Brigitte 



THE TAKING OF THE VEIL. 107 

de Riipelmonde, canoness of Mauberge. The circumstance 
caused great talk and wonder in the fashionable circles of 
Paris ; everybody was at a loss to imagine "why a young girl, 
beautiful and rich, in the very springtime of her charms, 
should renounce a world which she was so eminently qualified 
to embellish and enjoy. 

A lady of high rank, who visited the beautiful novice at the 
grate of her convent-parlor, got a clue to the mystery. She 
f o\md her in great agitation ; for a time she evidently repressed 
her feelings, but they at length broke forth in passionate ex- 
clamations. "Heaven grant me grace," said she, "someday 
or other to pardon my cousin Gondrecom"t the sorrows he has 
caused me I" 

"What do you mean?— what sorrows, my child?" inquired 
her visitor. "What has your cousin done to affect you?" 

"He is married!" cried she in accents of despair, but endea- 
voring to repress her sobs. 

" Married! I have heard nothing of the kind, my dear. Are 
you perfectly sure of it?" 

"Alas ! nothing is more certain; my aunt de Rupelmonde in- 
formed me of it. " 

The lady retired, full of surprise and commiseration. She 
related the scene in a circle of the highest nobihty, in the 
saloon of the Marshal Prince of Beauvau, where the unac- 
countable seK- sacrifice of the beautiful novice was under 
discussion. 

"Alas!" said she, "the poor girl is crossed in love; she is 
about to renounce the world in despair, at the marriage of her 
cousin De Gondrecourt." 

"What!" cried a gentleman present, "the Viscoimt de 
Gondrecourt married! Never was there a greater faisehDod. 
And ' her aunt told her so ! ' Oh ! I understand the plot. The 
countess is passionately fond of Gondrecourt, and jealous of 
tier beautiful niece ; but her schemes are vain ; the Viscount 
.Voids her in perfect detestation." 

There was a mingled expression of ridicule, disgust, and 
Indignation at the thought of such a rivalry. The Countess 
Rupelmonde was old enough to be the grandmother of the 
Viscount. She was a woman of violent passions, and imperi- 
ous temper ; robust in person, "vvith a masculine voice, a dusky 
complexion, gi'een eyes, and powerful eyebrows. 

" It is impossible, " cried one of the company, ' ' that a woman 
pf the countess' age and appearance can be guilty of sucl) 



log TUE CRAYON PAPERS. 

folly. No, no , you mistake the aim of this detestable woman. 
She is managing to get possession of the estate of her lovely 
niece. " 

This was admitted to be the most fjrobable ; and all concurred 
in behevlng the countess to be at the bottom of the intended 
sacrifice; for although a cajioness, a dignitary of a rehgious 
order, she was pronounced little better than a devil incarnate. 

The Princess de Beauvau, a woman of generous spirit and 
intrepid zeal, suddenly rose from the chair in which she had 
been reclmlng. " My prince, " said she, addressing her hus- 
band, ' ' if you approve of it, I will go immediately and have a 
conversation on this subject with the archbishop. There is not 
a moment to spare. It is now past midnight ; the ceremony is 
to take place in the mormng. A few hours and the irrevocable 
vows %vil be pronounced." 

The prince inclined his head in respectful assent. The 
princess set about her generous enterprise with a woman's 
promptness. Within a short tune her carriage was at the iron 
gate of the arcliiepiscopal palace, and her servants rang for 
admission. Two Switzers, who had charge of the gate, were 
fast asleep in the porter's lodge, for it was half -past two in the 
morning. It was some time before they could be awakened, 
and longer before they could be made to come forth. 

" The Princess de Beauvau is at the gate !" 

Such a personage was not to be received in deshabille. Her 
dignity and the dignity of the archbishop demanded that the 
gate should be served in full costume. For half an hour, there- 
fore, had the princess to wait, in feverish impatience, until the 
two dignitaries of the porter's lodge arrayed themselves ; and 
three o'clock sounded from the tower of Notre Dame before 
they came forth. Tliey were in grand livery, of a buff color, 
with amaranth galloons, plaited with silver, and fringed sword- 
belts reaching to their knees, in which were suspended long 
rapiers. They had small three-cornered hats, surmounted 
with plumes; and each bore in liis hand a halbert. Thus 
equipped at all points, they planted themselves before the door 
of the carriage ; struck the ends of their halberts on the ground 
with emphasis; and stood waiting with official importance, 
but profound respect, to know the pleasure of the princess. 

She demanded to speak with the archbishop. A most rever- 
ential bow and shrug accompanied the reply, that " His Gran- 
deur was not at home. " 

Not at liome! Wliere was he to be found? Another bow 



THE TAKING OF THE VEIL. 109 

and shrug: "His Grandeur either was, or ought to be, in 
retirement in the seminary of St. Magloire ; unless he had gone 
to pass the Fete of St. Bruno with the reverend Carthusian 
Fathers of the Rue d'Enfer ; or perhaps he might have gone to 
repose himself in his castle of Conflans-sm'-Seuie. Though, on 
further thought, it was not unlikely he might have gone to 
sleep at St. Cyr, where the Bishop of Chartres never failed 
to invite him for the anniversary soiree of Madame de Main- 
tenon. 

The princess was in despair at this multiplicity of cross- 
roads pointed out for the chase ; the brief interval of time was 
rapidly elapsing ; day already began to dawn ; she saw there 
was no hope of finding the archbishop before the moment of 
his entrance into the church for the morning's ceremony ; so 
she returned home quite distressed. 

At seven o'clock in the morning the princess was in the 
parlor of the monastery of De Panthemont, and sent in an 
urgent request for a moment's conversation with the Lady 
Abbess. The reply brought was, that the Abbess could not 
come to the parlor, being obhged to attend to the choir, at the 
canonical hours. The princess entreated permission to enter 
the convent, to reveal to the Lady Abbess in two words some- 
thing of the greatest importance. The Abbess sent word in 
reply, that the thing was impossible, until she had obtained 
permission from the Archbishop of Paris. The princess 
retired once more to her carriage, and now, as a forlorn hope, 
took her station at the door of the church, to watch for the 
arrival of the prelate. 

After a while the splendid company invited to this great 
ceremony began to anive. The beauty, rank, and wealth of 
the novice had excited gi-eat attention ; and, as everybody was 
expected to be present on the occasion, everybody pressed to 
secure a place. The street reverberated with the*continual roll 
of gilded carriages and chariots ; coaches of princes and dukes, 
designated by impei-ials of crimson velvet, and magnificent 
equipages of six horses, decked out with nodding plumes and 
sumptuous harnessing. At length the equipages ceased to 
arrive ; empty vehicles filled the street ; and, with a noisy and 
parti-colored crowd of lacqueys in rich Hveries, obstructed all 
the entrances to De Panthemont. 

Eleven o'clock had struck ; the last auditor had entered the 
church •, the deep tones of the organ began to swell thi-ough the 
sacred pile, yet still the archbishop came not! The heart of 



"i^O THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

the princess beat quicker and quicker with vague apprehension; 
when a valet, dressed in cloth of silver, trimmed with crimson 
velvet, approached her carriage precipitately. "Madame," 
said he, "the archbishop is in the church; he entered by the 
portal of the cloister; he is already in the sanctuary; the cere- 
mony is about to commence !" 

What was to be done? To speak with the archbishop was 
now impossible, and yet on the revelation she was to make 
to him depended the fate of the lovely novice. The princess 
drew forth her tablets of enamelled gold, wrote a few lines 
therein with a pencil, and ordered her lacquey to make way for 
her through the crowd, and conduct her with all speed to the 
sacristy. 

The description given of the church and the assemblage on 
this occasion presents an idea of the aristocratical state of the 
times, and of the high interest awakened by the affecting 
sacrifice about to take place. The church was hung with 
superb tapestry, above which extended a band of white damask, 
fringed with gold, and covered with armorial escutcheons. 
A large pennon, emblazoned with the arms and alliances of the 
high-born damsel, was suspended, according to custom, in 
place of the lamp of the sanctuary. The lustres, girandoles, 
and candelabras of the king had been furnished in profusion 
to decorate the sacred edifice, and the pavements were all 
covered with rich carpets. 

The sanctuary jDresented a reverend and august assemblage 
of bishops, canons, and monks of various orders, Benedic- 
tines, Bemardines, Raccollets, Capuchins, and others, all in 
their appropriate robes and dresses. In the midst presided the 
Archbishop of Paris, Christopher de Beaumont ; surrounded by 
his four arch priests and his vicars-general. He was seated with 
his back against the altar. When his eyes were cast down, his 
countenance, pale and severe, is represented as having been 
somewhat sepulchral and death-hke ; but the moment he raised 
his large, dai-k, sparkling eyes, the whole became animated; 
beaming with ardor, and expressive of energy, penetration, and 
firmness. 

The audience that crowded the church was no less illustrious. 
Excepting the royal family, all that was elevated in rank and 
title was there ; never had a ceremonial of the kind attracted 
an equal concourse of the high aristocracy of Paris. 

At length the grated gates of the choir creaked on their 
hinges, and Madame de Richelieu, the high and noble Abbess 



TUE TAKING OF THE VEIL. l\\ 

of De Panthemont, advanced to resign the novice into the 
hands of her aiuit, the Countess Canoness de Rupelmonde. 
Every eye was turned with intense curiosity to gain a sight of 
the beautiful victim. She was sumptuously dressed, but her 
paleness and languor accorded but little with her brilhant attire. 
The Canoness De Rupelmonde conducted her niece to her pray- 
ing-desk, where, as soon as the poor girl knelt down, she saiilc 
as if exhausted. Just then a sort of murmur was heard at the 
lower end of the church, where the servants in livery were 
gathered. A young man was borne forth, struggling in con- 
vulsions. He was in the uniform of an oificer of the guards of 
King Stanislaus, Duke of Lorraine. A whisper circidated that 
it was the young Viscount de Gondrecourt, and that he was a 
lover of the novice. Almost all the young nobles present 
hurried forth to proffer him sympathy and assistance. 

The Archbishop of Paris remained all this time seated before 
the altar ; his eyes cast down, Ms pallid countenance giving no 
signs of interest or participation in the scene around him. It 
was noticed that in one of his hands, wliich was covered with 
a violet glove, he grasped firmly a pair of tablets, of enamelled 
gold. 

The Canoness De Rupelmonde conducted her niece to the 
prelate, to make her profession of self-devotion, and to utter 
the irrevocable vow. As the lovely novice knelt at his feet, 
the archbishop fixed on her his dark, beaming eyes, with a kind 
but earnest expression. " Sister !" said he, in the softest and 
most benevolent tone of voice, "what is your age?" 

"Nineteen years, Monsigneur," eagerly interposed the Coun- 
tess de Rupelmonde. 

" You will reply to me by and bye, Madame," said the arch- 
bishop, dryly. He then repeated his question to the novice, 
who replied in a faltering voice, "Seventeen years." 

"In what diocese did you take the white veil?" 

"In the diocese of Toul." 

"How!" exclaimed the archbishop, vehemently. "In the 
diocese of Toul? Tlie chair of Toul is vacant! The Bishop of 
Toul died fifteen months since ; and those who officiate in the 
chapter are not authorized to receive novices. Your noviciate, 
Mademoiselle, is null and void, and we cannot receive your 
profession. " 

The archbishop rose from his chaii", resumed his mitre, and 
took the crozier from the hands of an attendant. 

' ' My dear brethren, " said he, addressing the assembly, ' ' there 



■J 32 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

is no necessity for our examining and interrogating Mademoi- 
selle de Lenoncour on the sincerity of her religious vocation. 
There is a canonical impediment to her professing for the pres- 
ent; and, as to the future, we reserve to ourselves the con- 
sidei-ation of the matter ; interdicting to all other ecclesiastical 
persons the power of accepting her vows, under penalty of in- 
terdiction, of suspension, and of nullification ; all which is in 
virtue of our metropohtan rights, contained in the terms of the 
bull cum proximis:'''' ^'Adjutorium nostrum in nomine Do- 
miniP^ pursued he, chanting in a grave and solenm voice, and 
turning toward the altar to give the benediction of the holy 
sacrament. 

The noble auditory had that habitude of reserve, that empire, 
or rather tyranny, over all outward manifestations of internal 
emotions, which belongs to high aristocratical breeding. The 
declaration of the archbishop, therefore, was received as one 
of the most natural and ordinary things in the world, and all 
knelt down and received the pontifical benediction with perfect 
decorum. As soon, however, as they were released from the 
self-restraint imposed by etiquette, they amply indemnified 
themselves; and nothing was talked of for a month, in the 
fashionable saloons of Paris, but the loves of the handsome 
Viscount and the charming Henrietta ; the wickedness of the 
canoness ; the active benevolence and admirable address of the 
Princess de Beauvau ; and the great wisdom of the archbishop, 
who was particularly extolled for his delicacy in defeating this 
manoeuvre without any scandal to the aristocracy, or public 
stigma on the name of De Rupelmonde, and without any de- 
parture from pastoral gentleness, by adroitly seizing upon an 
informality, and turning it to beneficial account, with as much 
authority as charitable circumspection. 

As to the Canoness de Rupelmonde, she was defeated at all 
points in her wicked plans against her beautiful niece. In 
consequence of the caveat of the archishop, her superior 
ecclesiastic, the Abbess de Panthemont, formally forbade Ma- 
demoiselle de Lenoncour to resume the white veil and the dress 
of a noviciate, and instead of a novice's cell, estabHshed her in 
a beautiful apartment as a boarder. The next morning the 
Canoness de Rupelmonde called at the convent to take away 
her niece ; but, to her confusion, the abbess produced a lettre- 
de-cachet, which she had just received, and which forbade 
Mademoiselle to leave the convent with any other person save 
the Prince de Beauvau. 



TEE TAKING OF THE VEIL. 113 

Under the auspices and the vigilant attention of the prince, 
the whole affair was wound up in the most technical and cir- 
cumstantial manner. The Coxmtess de Eupelmonde, by a 
decree of the Grand Council, was divested of the guardianship 
of her niece. All the arrears of revenues accumulated during 
Mademoiselle de Lenoncour's minority were rigorously col- 
lected, the accounts scrutinized and adjusted, and her noble 
fortune placed safely and entirely in her hands. 

In a httle wMe the noble personages who had been invited 
to the ceremony of taking the veil received another invitation, 
on the part of the Countess dowager de Gondrecourt, and the 
Marshal Prince de Beauvau, to attend the marriage of Adrien 
de Gondrecourt, Viscount of Jean-sur-Moselle, and Henrietta, 
de Lenoncour, Countess de Hevouwal, etc., which duly took 
place in the chapel of the archiepiscopal palace at Paris. 



So much for the beautiful Henrietta de Lenoncour. We will 
now draw forth a companion picture of a handsome young 
cavaher, who figured in the gay world of Paris about the same 
time, and concerning whom the ancient Marchioness writes 
with the lingering feeling of youthful romance. 

THE CHARMINO LETORIEBES. 

"A GOOD face is a letter of recommendation," says an old 
proverb ; and it was never more verified than in the case of 
the Chevaher Letorieres. He was a young gentleman of good 
family, but who, according to the Spanish phrase, had nothing 
but his cloak and sword (capa y espada), that is to say. Ins 
gentle blood and gallant bearing, to help him forward in the 
world. Through the interest of an imcle, who was an abbe, he 
received a gratuitous education at a fashionable college, but 
finding the terms of study too long, and the vacations too 
short, for his gay and indolent temper, he left college without 
saying a word, and launched himself upon Paris, with a light 
heart and still lighter pocket. Here he led a hf e to Ins humor. 
It is true he had to make scanty meals, and to lodge in a garret ; 
but what of that? He was his own master; free from all task 
or restraint. When cold or hungry, he sallied forth, like 
others of the chameleon order, and banqueted on pure aii* and 
warm sunshine in the public walks and gardens ; drove off tho 
thoughts of a dinner by amusing himseK with the gay and gro- 



114 THE CRATON PAPERS. 

tesque throngs of the metropolis; and if one of the poorest, was 
one of the merriest gentlemen upon town. Wherever he went 
his good looks and frank, graceful demeanor, had an instant 
and magical effect in securing favor. There was but one 
word to express his fascinating powers— he was "charm- 

ing." . . 

Instances are given of the effect of his wmmng qualities upon 
rainds of coarse, ordinary mould. He had once taken shelter 
from a heavy shower under a gateway. A hackney coachman, 
who was passing by, pulled up, and asked him if he wished a 
cast in his carriage. Letorieres declined, with a melancholy 
and dubious shake of the head. The coacliman regarded him 
wastfuUy, repeated his solicitations, and wished to know what 
place he was going to. "To the Palace of Justice, to walk in 
the galleries; but I will wait here until the rain is over." 

"And why so?" inquired the- coachman, pertmaciously. 

" Because I've no money; do let me be quiet." 

The coachman jumped down, and opening the door of his 
carriage, "It shall never be said," cried he, "that I left so 
charming a young gentleman to weary himself, and catch 
cold, merely for the sake of twenty-four sous." 

Arrived at the Palace of Justice, he stopped before the saloon 
of a famous restaurateur, opened the door of the carriage, 
and taking off his hat very respectfully, begged the youth to 
accept of a Louis-d'or. "You will meet with some young gen- 
tlemen within," said he, "with whom you may wish to take a 
hand at cards. The number of my coach is 144. You can find 
me out, and repay me whenever you please." 

The worthy Jehu was some years afterward made coachman 
to the Princess Sophia, of France, through the recon^^nenda- 
tion of the handsome youth he had so generously obliged. 

Another instance in point is given with respect to his tailor, to 
whom he owed four hundred livres. The tailor had repeatedly 
dunned him, but was always put off with the best grace in the 
world. The wife of the tailor urged her husband to assume a 
harsher tone. He rephed that he could not find it in his heart 
to speak roughly to so charming a young gentleman. 

" I've no patience with such want of spirit!" cried the wife; 
" you have not the courage to show your teeth: but I'm going 
out to get change for this note of a hundred crowns ; before I 
come home, I'll seek this ' charming ' youth myself, and see 
whether he has the power to charm me. I'll warrant he 
won't be able to put me off with fine looks and fine speeches," 



THE TAKING OF THE VEIL. 115 

With these and many more vaunts, the good dame sallied 
forth. When she returned home, however, she wore quite a 
different aspect. 

"Well," said her husband, "how much have you received 
from the ' charming ' young man?" 

" Let me alone," replied the wife; " I found him playing on 
the guitar, and he looked so handsome, and was so amiable 
and genteel, that I had not the heart to trouble him. " 

"And the change for the hundred-crown note?" said the 
tailor. 

The wife hesitated a moment: "Faith," cried she, "you'll 
have to add the amount to your next bill against him. The 
poor young gentleman had such a melancholy air, that — I know- 
not how it was, but —I left the hundred crowns on his mantel- 
piece in spite of him !" 

The captivating looks and manners of Letorieres made his 
way with equal facility in the great world. His high connec- 
tions entitled liim to presentation at court, but some questions 
arose about the sufficiency of his proofs of nobihty ; whereupon 
the king, who had seen him walking in the gardens of Ver- 
sailles, and had been charmed with his appearance, put an end 
to all demurs of etiquette by making him a viscount. 

The same kind of fascination is said to have attended him 
throughout his career. He succeeded in various difficult fam- 
ily suits on questions of honors and privileges ; he had merely 
to appear in court to dispose the judges in his favor. He at 
length became so popular, that on one occasion, when he 
appeared at the theatre on recovering from a wound received 
in a duel, the audience applauded him on his entrance. Noth- 
ing, it is said, could have been in more perfect good taste and 
high breeding than his conduct on this occasion. When he 
heard the applause, he rose in his box, stepped forward, and 
sui-veyed both sides of the house, as if he could not believe 
that it was himself they were treating like a favorite actor, or 
a prince of the blood. 

His success with the fair sex may easily be presumed ; but 
he had too much honor and sensibihty to render his inter- 
course with them a series of cold gallantries and heartless tri- 
umphs. In the course of his attendance upon court, where he 
held a post of honor about the king, he fell deeply in love mth 
the beautiful PrincesF". Julia, of Savoy Carignan. She was 
young, tender, and simplc-heai-ted, and returned his love with 
equal fervor. Her family took the aJaim at this attachment. 



116 THhJ CRAYON PAP LBS. 

and procured an order that she shoiild inhabit the Abbey of 
JMontmartre, where she was treated with all befitting dehcacy 
and distinction, but not permitted to go beyond the convent 
Avails. The lovei-s found means to correspond. One of theii 
letters was intercepted, and it is even hinted that a plan of 
elopement was discovered. A duel was the consequence, with 
one of the fiery relations of the princess. Letorieres received 
two sword-thrusts in his right side. His wounds were serious, 
yet after two or three days' confinement he could not resist Ms 
impatience to see the princess. He succeeded in scaling the 
walls of the abbey, and obtaining an interview in an arcade 
leading to the cloister of the cemetery. The interview of the 
lovers was long and tender. They exchanged vows of eternal 
fideUty, and flattered themselves "with hopes of future happi- 
ness, which they were never to realize. After repeated fare- 
wells, the princess re-entered the convent, never again to 
behold the charming Letorieres. On the following morning 
his corpse was found stiff and cold on the pavement of the 
cloister ! 

It would seem that the wounds of the unfortunate youth had 
been reopened by his efforts to get over the wall ; that he had 
refrained from calling assistance, lest he should expose the 
princess, and that he had bled to death, without any one to aid 
iiim, or to close his dying eyes. 



THE EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD.* 

NOTED DOWN FROM HIS CONVERSATIONS. 

" I AM a Kentuckian by residence and choice, but a Virginian 
by birth. The cause of my first leaving the ' Ancient Domin- 
ion,' and emigrating to Kentucky, was a jackass! You stare, 
but have a little patience, and I'll soon show you how it came 
to pass. My father, who was of one of the old Virginian 
famihes, resided in Richmond. He was a widower, and his 

* Ralph Ring wood, though a fictitious name, is a real personage: the worthy 
original is now living and flourishing in honorable station. I have given some 
anecdotes of his early and eccentric career in, as nearly as lean recollect the very 
words in which he related them. They certainly afforded strong temptations to 
the embellishments of fiction ; but I thought them so strikingly characteristic of the 
individual, and of the scenes and society into which his peculiar humors carried 
him, that I preferred giving them in their original simplicity.— G. C. 



EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 117 

domestic affairs were managed by a housekeeper of the old 
school, such as used to administer the concerns of opulent Vir- 
ginian households. She was a dignitary that almost rivalled 
my father in importance, and seemed to think eveiything be< 
longed to her ; in fact, she was so considerate in her economy, 
and so carefid of expense, as sometunes to vex my father, who 
would swear she was disgracing him by her meanness. She 
always appeared with that ancient insignia of housekeeping 
trust and authority, a great bunch of keys jingling at her 
girdle. She superintended the arrangements of the table at 
every meal, and saw that the dishes were all placed according 
to her primitive notions of symmetry. In the evening she 
took her stand and served out tea with a mingled respectful- 
ness and pride of station, tridy exemplary. Her great 
ambition was to have everything in order, and that the estab- 
Mshment under her sway should be cited as a model of good 
iiousekeeping. If anything went wrong, poor old Barbara 
would take it to heart, and sit in her room and cry ; until a 
f^w chapters in the Bible would quiet her spirits, and make all 
calm again. The Bible, in fact, was her constant resort in time 
of trouble. She opened it indiscriminately, and whether she 
chanced, among the lamentations of Jeremiah, the Canticles of 
Solomon, or the rough enumeration of the tribes in Deuter- 
onomy, a chapter was a chapter, and operated like balm to her 
soul. Such was our good old housekeeper Barbara, who was 
destined, unwittingly, to have a most important effect upon 
my destiny. 

' ' It came to pass, during the days of my juvenility, while I 
was yet what is termed ' an unlucky boy,' that a gentleman of 
our neighborhood, a great advocate for experiments and im- 
provements of aU kinds, took it into his head that it would be 
an immense public advantage to introduce a breed of mules, 
and accordingly imported three jacks to stock the neighbor- 
hood. This in a part of the country where the people cared 
for nothing but blood horses I Why, sir ! they woiild have con- 
sidered their mares disgraced and their whole stud dishonored 
by such a misaUiance. The whole matter was a town talk and 
a town scandal. The worthy amalgamator of quadrupeds 
found himself in a dismal scrape; so he backed out in time, 
abjured the whole doctrine of amalgamation, and turned his 
jacks loose to shift for themselves upon the town common. 
There they used to run about and lead an idle, good-for- 
nothing, hohday life, the happiest animals in the country. 



113 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

"It SO happened that my way to school lay across this 
common. The first time that I saw one of these animals it set 
up a braying and frightened me confoundedly. However, I 
soon got over my fright, and seeing that it had something of 
a horse look, my Virginian love for anything of the equestrian 
species predominated, and I determined to back it. I accord- 
ingly appUed at a grocer's shop, procured a cord that had been 
round a loaf of sugar, and made a kind of halter ; then sum- 
monmg some of my school-fellows, we drove master Jack 
about the common until we hemmed laim in an angle of a 
'worm fence.' After some difficulty, we fixed the halter 
round his muzzle, and I mounted. Up flew his heels, away I 
went over his head, and off he scampered. However, I was on 
my legs in a tMdnlding, gave chase, caught him, and remounted. 
By dint of repeated tumbles I soon learned to stick to his back, 
so that he could no more cast me than he could his own skin. 
From that time, master Jack and his companions had a scam- 
pering fife of it, for we all rode them between school hours, 
and on hohday afternoons ; and you may be sure school-boys' 
nags are never permitted to suffer the grass to grow under 
their feet. They soon became so kno"vving that they took to 
their heels at the very sight of a school-boy; and we were 
generallj^ much longer in chasing than we were in riding them. 

' ' Sunday approached, on wliich I projected an equestrian 
excursion on one of these long-eared steeds. As I knew the 
jacks would be in great demand on Sunday morning, I secured 
one over night, and conducted lum home, to be ready for an 
early outset. But where was I to quarter him for the night? 
I could not put him in the stable ; our old black groom George 
was as absolute in that domain as Barbara was within doors, 
and would have thought his stable, his horses, and himself dis- 
graced, by the introduction of a jackass. I recollected the 
smoke-house ; an out-building appended to all Virginian estab- 
Mshments for the smoking of hams, and other kinds of meat. 
So I got the key, put master Jack in, locked the door, retiuned 
the key to its place, and went to bed, mtending to release my 
prisoner at an early hour, before any of the family were awake. 
I was so tired, however, by the exertions I had made in catch- 
ing the donkey, that I fell into a soimd sleep, and the morning 
broke without my awaldng. 

" Not so with dame Barbara, the housekeeper. As usual, to 
use her own phrase, ' she was up before the crow put his shoes 
on,' and bustled about to get things in order for breakfast. 



EAELT EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD, ng 

Her first resort was to the smoke-house. Scarce had she 
opened the door, when master Jack, tired of his confinement, 
and glad to be released from darkness, gave a loud bra,y, and 
rushed forth. Down dropped old Barbara ; the animal tram- 
pled over her, and made off for the common. Poor Barbara ! 
She had never before seen a donkey, and having read in the 
Bible that the devil went about like a roaring lion, seeking 
whom he might devour, she took it for granted that this was 
Beelzebub himself. The kitchen was soon in a hubbub ; the 
servants hurried to the spot. There lay old Barbara in fits ; 
as fast as she got out of one, the thoughts of the devil came 
over her, and she fell into another, for the good soul was 
devoutly superstitious. 

"As ill luck would have it, among those attracted by the 
noise was a little, cursed, fidgety, crabbed uncle of mine ; one 
of those uneasy spirits that cannot rest quietly in then- beds in 
the morning, but must be up early, to bother the household. 
He was only a kind of half -uncle, after all, for he had married 
my father's sister; yet he assumed great authority on the 
strength of this left-handed relationship, and was a universal 
intermeddler and family pest. This prying little busydody 
soon ferreted out the truth of the story, and discovered, by 
hook and by crook, that I was at the bottom of the affair, and 
had locked up the donkey in the smoke-house. He stopped to 
inquire no fui'ther, for he was one of those testy curmudgeons 
with whom unlucky boys are always in the wrong. Leaving 
old Barbara to wrestle in imagination with the devil, he made 
for my bed-chamber, where I still lay wrapped in rosy slum- 
bers, little dreaming of the mischief I had done, and the storm 
about to break over me. 

" In an instant I was awakened by a shower of thwacks, and 
started up in wild amazement. I demanded the meaning of 
this attack, but received no other reply than that I had 
murdered the housekeeper; while my uncle continued whack- 
ing away during my confusion. I seized a poker, and put 
myself on the defensive. I was a stout boy for my years, 
while my uncle was a little wiffiet of a man ; one that in Ken- 
tucky we would not call even an ' individual ; ' nothing more 
than a ' remote circumstance. ' I soon, therefore, brought liim 
to a parley, and learned the whole extent of the charge brought 
against me. I confessed to the donkey and the smoke-house, 
but pleaded not guilty of the murder of the housekeeper. I 
soon found out that old Barbara was still alive. She con- 



-[90 THE CUATON PAPERS. 

tinued under the doctor's hands, however, for several days; 
and whenever she had an ill turn my uncle would seek to give 
me another flogging. I appealed to my father, but got no 
redi'ess. I was considered an 'imlucky boy,' prone to aU 
kinds of mischief ; so that prepossessions were against me in 
all cases of appeal. 

"I felt stung to the soul at all this. I had been beaten, 
degi'aded, and treated with shghting when I complained. I 
lost my usual good spirits and good humor ; and, being out of 
temper with everybody, fancied everybody out of temper with 
me. A certain wold, roving spirit of freedom, which I believe 
is as inherent in me as it is in the partridge, was brought into 
sudden activity by the checks and restraints I suffered. ' I'U 
go from home,' thought I, 'and shift for myself.' Perhaps 
tliis notion was quickr ned by the rage for emigrating to Ken- 
tucky, which was at that time prevalent in Vii'ginia. I had 
heard such stories of the romantic beauties of the countiy ; of 
the abimdance of game of all kinds, and of the glorious inde- 
pendent life of the hunters who ranged its noble forests, and 
lived by the rifle ; that I was as much agog to get there as boys 
who hve in sea-ports are to launch themselves among the won- 
ders and adventures of the ocean. 

" After a time old Barbara got better in mind and body, and 
matters were explained to her ; and she became gradually con- 
vinced that it was not the devfl she had encoimtered. When 
she heard how harshly I had been treated on her account, the 
good old soul was extremely grieved, and spo*ke warmly to my 
father in my behalf. He had himself remarked the change 
in my behavior, and thought punishment might have been 
carried too far. He sought, therefore, to have some conversa- 
tion ^vith me, and to soothe my f eehngs ; but it was too late. 
I frankly told him the course of mortification that I had ex- 
perienced, and the fixed determination I had made to go from 
home. 

" ' And where do you mean to go? ' 

'"To Kentucky.' 

To Kentucky ! Why, you know nobody there.' 
No matter: I can soon make acquaintances.' 

" ' And what will you do when you get there?' 

"'Hunt!' 

" My father gave a long, low whistle, and looked in my face 
with a serio-comic expression. I was not far in my teens, and 
to talk of setting off alone for Kentucky, to tm*n hunter, 






EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINQWOOD. 121 

seemed doubtless the idle prattle of a boy. He was little 
aware of the dogged resolution of my character; and his 
smile of incredulity but fixed me more obstinately in my pur- 
pose. I assured him I was serious in what I said, and would 
certainly set off for Kentucky in the spring. 

' ' Month after month passed away. My father now and then 
adverted slightly to what had passed between us; doubtless 
for the purpose of sounding me. I always expressed the same 
grave and fixed determination. By degrees he spoke to mo 
more directly on the subject, endeavoring earnestly but kindly 
to dissuade me. My only reply was, ' I had made up my mind.' 

"Accordingly, as soon as the spring had fairly opened, I 
sought him one day in his study, and informed him I was 
about to set out for Kentucky, and had come to take my 
leave. He made no objection, for he had exhausted persua- 
sion and remonstrance, and doubtless thought it best to give 
way to my humor, trusting that a little rough experience 
would soon bring me home again. I asked money for my 
journey. He went to a chest, took out a long green silk purse, 
well filled, and laid it on the table. I now asked for a horse 
and servant. 

"'A horse!' said my father, sneeringly: 'why, you would 
not go a mile without racing him, and breaking your neck ; 
and as to a servant, you cannot take care of yourself, much 
less of him.' 

" ' How am I to travel, then? ' 

" 'Why, I suppose you are man enough to travel on foot.' 

" He spoke jestingly, little thinking I would take him at his 
word ; but I was thoroughly piqued in respect to my enter- 
prise ; so I pocketed the purse, went to my room, tied up three 
or four shirts in a pocket-handkerchief, put a dirk in my 
bosom, girt a couple of pistols round my waist, and felt lilce 
a knight-errant armed cap-a-pie, and ready to rove the world 
in quest of adventures. 

' ' My sister (I had Ibut one) hung round me and wept, and 
entreated me to stay. I felt my heart swell in my throat ; but 
I gulped it back to its place, and straightened myself up: I 
would not suffer myself to cry. I at length disengaged my- 
self from her, and got to the door. 

" ' When will you come back? ' cried she. 

" ' Never, by heavens ! ' cried I, ' until I come back a member 
of Congi'ess from Kentucky. I am determined to show that I 
am not the tail-end of the family.' 



122 TBE CRAYON PAPERS. 

" Such was my first outset from home. You may suppose 
what a greenhorn I was, and how httle I knew of the world I 
was laimching mto. 

"I do not recollect any incident of importance, until I 
reached the borders of Pennsylvania. I had stopped at an inn 
to get sorae ref I'eshment ; and as I was eating in the back room, 
I overheard tAvo men in the bar-room conjecture who and what 
r could be. One determined, at length, that I was a run-away 
apprentice, and ought to be stopped, to which the other as- 
sented. When I had finished my meal, and paid for it, I went 
out at the back door, lest I should be stopped by my super- 
visors. Scorning, however, to steal off iilce a culprit, I walked 
round to the front of the house. One of the men advanced to 
the front door. He wore his hat on one side, and had a conse- 
quential an- that nettled me. 

" ' Where are you going, youngster? ' demanded he. 

*' ' That's none of youi' business ! ' rephed I, rather pertly. 

" ' Yes, but it is, though! You have run away from home, 
and must give an account of yom-self . ' 

" He advanced to seize me, when I drew forth a pistol. ' If 
you advance another step, I'U shoot you ! ' 

" He sprang back as if he had trodden upon a rattlesnake, 
and his hat fell off in the movement. 

' ' ' Let him alone ! ' cried his companion ; ' he's a foolish, mad- 
headed boy, and don't know what he's about. He'll shooc yovi, 
you may rely on it. ' 

" He did not need any caution in the matter; he was afraid 
even to pick up his hat: so I pushed forward on my Avay, 
without molestation. This incident, however, had its effect 
upon me. I became fearful of sleeping in any house at night, 
lest I should be stopped. I took my meals in the houses, in the 
course of the day, but would turn aside at night into some 
wood or ravine, make a fire, and sleep before it. This I con- 
sidered was true hunter's style, and I ^vished to inure myself 
to it. 

"At length I ari'ived at Brownsville, leg- weary and way- 
worn, and in a shabby phght, as you may suppose, having been 
' camping out ' for some nights past. I applied at some of the 
inferior inns, but could gain no admission. I was regarded for 
a moment Avith a dubious eye, and then informed they did not 
receive foot-passengere. At last I went boldly to the principal 
inn. The landlord appeared as unwiUing as the rest to receive 



EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. 123 

a vagi'ant boy beneath his roof; but Ms wife interfered in the 
midst of his excuses, and half elbowing him aside : 

" 'Where are you gouag, my lad? ' said she. 

'"To Kentucky.' 

" ' What are you going there for? ' 

'"To hunt.' 

"She looked earnestly at me for a moment or two. ' Have? 
you a mother hving? ' said she at length. 

' ' ' No, madam : she has been dead for some time. ' 

" ' I thought so ! ' cried she, warmly. ' I knew if you had a 
mother hving, you would not be here. ' From that moment the 
good woman trea-ted ixie with a mother's kindness. 

" I remained several days beneath her roof, recovering from 
the fatigue of my journey. While here I purchased a rifle and 
practised daily at a mark to prepare myself for a hunter's hfe. 
When sufficiently recruited in strength I took leave of my 
kind host and hostess and resumed my journey. 

' ' At Wheehng I embarked in a flat-bottomed family boat, 
technically called a broad-horn, a prime river conveyance in 
those days. In this ark for two weeks I floated down the 
Ohio. The river was as yet in all its wild beauty. Its loftiest 
trees had not been thinned out. The forest overhung the 
water's edge, and was occasionally skirted by immense cane- 
brakes. Wild animals of all kinds abounded. We heard them 
rushing through the thickets and plashing in the water. Deer 
and bears would frequently swim across the river; others 
would come down to the bank and gaze at the boat as it passed. 
I was incessantly on the alert with my rifle ; but somehow or 
other the game was never within shot. Sometimes I got a 
chance to land and try my skiU on shore. I shot squirrels and 
small birds and even wild turkeys; but though I caught 
glimpses of deer bounding away through the woods, I never 
could get a fair shot at them. 

' ' In this way we ghded in our broad-horn past Cincinnati, 
the 'Queen of the West,' as she is now called, then a mere 
group of log cabins ; and the site of the busthng city of Louis- 
ville, then designated by a sohtary house. As I said before, 
the Ohio was as yet a wild river ; all was forest, forest, forest ! 
Near the confluence of Green River with the Ohio, I landed, 
bade adieu to the broad-horn, and sti-uck for the interior of 
Kentucky. I had no precise plan ; my only idea was to make 
for one of the wildest parts of the country. I had relatives in 
Lexington and other settled places, to whom I thought it prob- 



124 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

able my father would write concerning me : so as I was full of 
manhood and independence, and resolutely bent on making 
my way in the world without assistance or control, I resolved 
to keep clear of them all. 

"In the course of my first day's trudge, I shot a wHd turkey, 
and slung it on my back for provisions. The forest was open 
and clear from underwood. I saw deer in abundance, but 
always rumiing, rmming. It seemed to me as if these animals 
never stood still. 

' ' At length I came to where a gang of half -starved wolves 
were feasting on the carcass of a deer which they had run 
down; and snarling and snapping and fighting hke so many 
dogs. They were all so ravenous and intent upon their prey 
that they did not notice me, and I had time to make my obser- 
vations. One, larger and fiercer than the rest, seemed to claim 
the larger share, and to keep the others in awe. K any one 
came too near him while eating, he would fly off, seize and 
shake him, and then return to his repast. 'This,' thought I, 
' must be the captain ; if I can kill him, I shall defeat the whole 
army.' I accordingly took aim, fired, and down dropped the 
old fellow. He might be only shamming dead ; so I loaded and 
put a second baU through him. He never budged ; aU the rest 
ran off, and my victory was complete. 

"It would not be easy to describe my triumphant feelings 
on this great achievement. I marched on with renovated 
spirit, regarding myself as absolute lord of the forest. As 
night drew near, I prepared for camping. My first care was to 
coUect dry wood and make a roaring fii'e to cook and sleep by, 
and to frighten off wolves, and bears, and panthers. I then 
began to pluck my turkey for supper. I had camped out 
several times in the early part of my expedition ; but that was 
in comparatively more settled and civilized regions, where 
there were no wild animals of consequence in the forest. This 
was my first camping out in the real wilderness ; and I was 
soon made sensible of the lonehness and wildness of my situa- 
tion. 

"In a little while a concert of wolves commenced: there 
might have been a dozen or two, but it seemed to me as if there 
were thousands. I never heard such howling and whining. 
Having prepared my turkey, I divided it into two parts, thrust 
two sticks into one of the halves, and planted them on end 
before the fire, the hunter's mode of roasting. The smell of 
roast meat quickened the appetites of the wolves, and their 



EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 125 

concert became truly infernal. They seemed to be aU around 
me, but I could only now and then get a glimpse of one of 
them, as he came within the glare of the hght. 

"I did not much care for the wolves, who I knew to be a 
cowardly race, but I had heard terrible stories of panthers, 
and began to fear their stealthy prowlings in the surromiding 
darkness. I was thirsty, and heard a brook bubbling and 
tinkhng along at no great distance, but absolutely dared not go 
there, lest some T)anther might he in wait, and spring upon me. 
By and by a deer whistled. I had never heard one before, and 
thought it must be a panther. I now felt uneasy lest he might 
climb the trees, crawl along the bi-anches overhead, and plump 
down upon me ; so I kept my eyes fixed on the branches, until 
my head ached. I more than once thought I saw fiery eyes 
glaring down from among the leaves. At length I thought of 
my supper and turned to see if my half-turkey Avas cooked. 
In crowding so near the fire I had pressed the meat into the 
flames, and it was consumed. I had nothing to do but toast 
the other half, and take better care of it. On that half I made 
my supper, without salt or bread. I was still so possessed 
with the dread of panthers, that I could not close my eyes aU 
night, but lay watching the trees until daybreak, when all my 
fears were dispelled with the darkness ; and as I saw the morn- 
ing sun sparkhng down through the branches of the trees, I 
smiled to think how I had suffered myself to be dismayed by 
sounds and shadows: but I was a young woodsman, and a 
stranger in Kentucky. 

"Having breakfasted on the remainder of my turkey, and 
slaked my thirst at the bubbhng stream, without further dread 
of panthers, I resumed my wayfai-ing with buoyant feelings. 
I again saw deer, but as usual inmning, running! I tried in 
vain to get a shot at them, and began to fear I never should. 
I was gazing in vexation after a herd in full scamper, when I 
was startled by a human voice. Turning round, I saw a man 
at a short distance from me, in a hunting-dross. 

" 'What are you after, my lad?' cried he. 

" 'Those deer,' rephed I, pettishly, 'but it seems as if they 
never stand still.' 

" Upon that he burst out laughing. ' Where are you from? ' 
said he. 

" ' From Richmond.' 

'"What! InoldVirginny?' 

"' The same.' 



rj6 



TllbJ UliAYON PAPERS. 



" ' And how on earth did you get here ? ' 

'"I landed at Green River from a broad-horn.' 

" 'And where are your companions?' 

"'I have none.' 

"'What?— aU alone!' 

"'Yes.' 

" 'Whore are you going?' 

" 'Anywhere.' 

" ' And v/hat have you come here for ? * 

"'Tohimt.' 

"'Well,' said he, laughingly, 'you'll make a real hunter; 
thei-e's no mistaking that ! Have you killed anything? ' 

" 'Nothhig but a turkey; I can't get within shot of a deer: 
they are always i-unning.' 

" ' Oh, I'll tell you the secret of that. You're always pushing 
forward, and starting the deer at a distance, and gazing at 
those that are scampering; but you mast step as slow, and 
silent, and cautious as a cat, and keep yom- eyes close around 
you, and liu'k from tree to tree, if you wish to get a chance at 
deer. But come, go home with me. My name is Bill Smithers ; 
I live not far off : stay with me a little while, and I'U teach you 
how to hunt. ' 

"I gladly accepted the invitation of honest BiU Smithers. 
We soon reached his habitation ; a mere log hut, with a square 
hole for a window, and a chinmey made of sticks and clay. 
Here he Hved, with a wife and child. He had ' girdled ' the 
trees for an acre or two around, preparatory to clearing a 
space for com and potatoes. In the mean time he maintained 
his family entirely by his rifle, and I soon found him to be a 
first-rate huntsman. Under his tutelage I received my first 
effective lessons in ' woodcraft. ' 

' ' The more I knew of a hunter's life, the more I rehshed it. 
The country, too, which had been the promised land of my 
'boyhood, did not, like most promised lands, disappoint me. 
No wilderness could be more beautiful than this part of Ken- 
tucky, in those times. The forests were open and spacious, 
with noble trees, some of which looked as if they had stood for 
centuries. There were beautiful prairies, too, diversified with 
gi'oves and clumps of trees, which looked hke vast parks, 
and in which you could see the deer running, at a great dis- 
tance. In the proper season these prairies would be covered 
in many places with wild strawberries, where your horse's 
hoofs would be dyed to the fetlock. I thought there covdd not 



EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. ]27 

be another place in the world equal to Kentucky — and I think 
so still. 

' ' After I had passed ten or twelve days with Bill Smithers, 
I thought it time to shift my quarters, for his house was 
scarce large enough for his own family, and I had no idea of 
being an incumbrance to any one. I accordingly made up my 
bundle, shouldered my rifle, took a friendly leave of Smithers 
and his wife, and set out in quest of a Nimrod of the wilderness, 
one John Miller, who lived alone, nearly forty miles off, and 
who I hoped would be well pleased to have a hunting com- 
panion. 

"I soon found out that one of the most important items in 
woodcraft in a new country was the skill to find one's way in. 
the wilderness. There were no regular roads in the forests, 
but they were cut up and perplexed by paths leading in all 
directions. Some of these were made by the cattle of the set- 
tlers, and were called ' stock-tracks, ' but others had been made 
by the immense droves of buffaloes which roamed about the 
country, from the flood until recent times. These were called 
buffalo-tracks, and traversed Kentucky from end to end, hke 
highways. Traces of them may still be seen in uncultivated 
parts, or deeply worn in the rocks where they crossed the 
mountains. I was a young woodsman, and sorely puzzled to 
distinguish one kind of track from the other, or to make out 
my course through this tangled labyrinth. While thus per- 
plexed, I heard a distant roaring and rushing sound ; a gloom 
stole over the forest : on looking up, when I could catch a stray 
glimjDse of the sky, I beheld the clouds rolled up like balls, the 
lower parts as black as ink. There was now and then an ex- 
plosion, Uke a burst of cannonry afar off, and the crash of a 
falling tree. I had heard of hurricanes in the woods, and sur- 
mised that one was at hand. It soon came crashing its way ; 
the forest writhing, and twisting, and groaning before it. The 
hurricane did not extend far on either side, but in a manner 
ploughed a f uri-ow through the woodland ; snapping off" or up- 
rooting trees that had stood for centm-ies, and filling the air 
with whirhng branches. I was directly in its course, and took 
my stand behind an immense poplar, six feet in diameter. It 
bore for a time the full fury of the blast, but at length began 
to yield. Seeing it falling, I scrambled nimbly round the 
trunk Uke a squirrel. Down it went, bearing down another 
tree with it. I crept under the trmik as a shelter, and was 
protected from other trees which fell aroimd me, but was sore 



]28 J^^E CRAYON PAPERS. 

all over from the twigs and branches driven against me by the 
blast. 

"This was the only incident of consequence that occurred 
on my way to Jolin Miller's, where I arrived on the following 
day, and was received by the veteran with the rough kindness 
of a backwoodsman. He was a giay -haired man, hardy and 
weather-beaten, with a blue wart, like a great bead, over one 
eye, whence he was nicknamed by the hunters ' Blue-bead 
Miller.' He had been in these parts from the earliest settle- 
ments, and had signalized himself in the hard conflicts with 
the Indians, which gained Kentucky the appellation of ' the 
Bloody Ground.' In one of these fights he had had an arm 
broken ; in another he had narrowly escaped, when hotly pur- 
sued, by jumping from a precipice thu'ty feet high into a river. 

' ' MUler willingly received me into his house as an inmate, 
and seemed pleased with the idea of making a hunter of me. 
His dwelling was a smaU log-house, with a loft or garret of 
boards, so that there was ample room fo- both of us. Under 
his instruction I soon made a tolerable proficiency in hunting. 
My first exploit, of any consequence, was killing a bear. I 
was hunting in company with two brothers, when we came 
upon the track of Bruin, in a wood where there was an under- 
growi;h of canes and grape-vines. He was scrambKng up a 
tree, when I shot liim through the breast : he fell to the gi-ound 
and lay motionless. The brothers sent in their dog, who seized 
the bear by the throat. Bruin raised one arm, and gave the 
dog a hug that crushed his ribs. One yell, and all was over. 
I don't know which was first dead, the dog or the bear. The 
two brothers sat down and cried hke children o\er their un- 
fortunate dog. Yet they were mere rough huntsmen, almost 
as Avild and untameable as Indians : but they were fine fellows. 

"By degrees I became known, and somewhat of a favorite 
among the hunters of the neighborhood ; that is to say, men 
who lived within a circle of thii-ty or forty miles, and came 
occasionally to see John Miller, who was a patriarch among 
them. They Uved widely apart, in log huts and wigwams, 
almost with the simphcity of Indians, and weU-nigh as desti- 
tute of the comforts and inventions of civilized life. They 
seldom saw each other; weeks, and even months would elapse, 
^vithout their visiting. When they did meet, it was very 
much after the manner of Indians; loitering about all day, 
without having much to say, but becoming communicative as 
evening advanced, and sitting up half the night before the fire, 



JiJARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALFH IIINQWOOD. 129 

telling hunting stories, and terrible tales of the fights of the 
Bloody Ground. 

"Sometimes several -would join in a distant hunting expedi- 
tion, or rather campaign. Expeditions of this kind lasted from 
November until April ; during which we laid up our stock of 
summer provisions. We shifted our limiting camps from 
place to place, according as we found the game. They were 
generally pitched near a run of water, and close by a cane-brake, 
to screen us from the wind. One side of our lodge was open 
toward the fire. Our horses were hoppled and turned loose in 
the cane-brakes, with bells round theii* necks. One of the 
party stayed at home to watch the camp, prepare the meals, 
and keep off the wolves ; the others hunted. When a hvmter 
killed a deer at a distance from the camp, he would open it and 
take out the entrails ; then climbing a sapling, he would bend 
it down, tie the deer to the top, and let it spring up again, so 
as to suspend the carcass out of reach of the wolves. At night 
he would return to the camp, and give an account of his luck. 
The next morning early he would get a horse out of the cane- 
brake and bring home his game. That day he would stay at 
home to cut up the carcass, while the others hunted. 

" Our days were thus spent in silent and lonely occupations. 
It was only at night that we would gather together before the 
fire, and be sociable. I was a novice, and used to listen with 
open eyes and ears to the strange and wild stories told by the 
old hunters, and believed everything I heard. Some of their 
stories bordered upon the supernatural. They beheved that 
their rifles might be spell-bound, so as not to be able to kill a 
buffalo, even at arm's length. This superstition they had 
derived from the Indians, who often think the white hunters 
have laid a spell upon their rifles. Miller partook of this 
superstition, and used to tell of his rifle's having a speU upon 
it; but it often seemed to me to be a shuffling way of account- 
ing for a bad shot. If a hunter grossly missed his aim he 
would ask, 'Who shot last with this rifle?' — and hint that he 
must have charmed it. The sure mode to disenchant the gim 
was to shoot a silver bullet out of it. 

' ' By the opening of spring we woifld generally have quanti- 
ties of bear's-meat and venison salted, dried, and smoked, and 
numerous packs of sldns. We would then make the best of 
our way home from oiir distant hunting-grounds ; transporting 
our spoils, sometimes in canoes along the rivers, sometimes 
on horseback over land, and our return would often be cele- 



i30 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

brated by feasting and dancing, in true backwoods style. I 
have given you some idea of oui* hunting; let me now give you 
a sketch of our fi'olicking. 

"It was on our return from a ^vinter's hunting in the neigh- 
borhood of Green Eiver, when we received notice that there 
was to be a grand frolic at Bob Moscly's, to greet the hunters. 
This Bob Moselj^ was a prime fellow throughout the country. 
He was an indifferent hunter, it is true, and rather lazy to 
boot ; but then he could play the fiddle, and that was enough 
to make liun of consequence. Ther^ was no other man within 
a hundred miles that could play tne fiddle, so there was no 
having a regular frohc without Bob Mosely. The himters, 
therefore, were always ready to give him a share of their 
game in exchange for his music, and Bob was always ready to 
get up a carousal, whenever there was a party returning from 
a hunting expedition. The present frohc was to take place 
at Bob Mosely's own house, which was on the Pigeon Roost 
Fork of the Muddy, which is a branch of Rough Creek, which 
is a branch of Green River. 

' ' Everybody was agog for the revel at Bob Moseley's ; and as 
all t he fashion of the neighborhood was to be there, I thought 
I must brush up for the occasion. My leathern hvmting-dress, 
which was the only one I had, was somewhat the woree for 
wear, it is true, and considerably japanned with blood and 
grease; but I was up to hunting expedients. Getting into a 
periogue, I paddled off to a part of the Green River where 
there was sand and clay, that might serve for soap ; then taking 
off my dress, I scrubbed and scoured it, until I thought it looked 
very well. I then put it on the end of a stick, and hmig it out 
of the periogue to dry, while I stretched myself very comfort- 
ably on the green bank of the river. Unluckily a flaw struck 
tlie periogue, and tipped over the stick : down went my dress 
to the bottom of the river, and I never saw it more. Here was 
I, left almost in a state of nature. I managed to make a kind 
of Robinson Crusoe garb of undressed skins, with the hair on, 
which enabled me to get home with decency; but my dream of 
gayety and fashion was at an end ; for how could I t hink of 
figui-iig in high life at the Pigeon Roost, equipped like a mere 
Orson? 

' ' Old Miller, who reaUy began to take some pride in me, was 
confounded when he understood that I did not uatend to go to 
Bob Mosely's ; but when I told him my misfortune, and that I 
had no dress: ' By the powers,' cried he, ' but you shall go, and 



EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 131 

you shall be the best dressed and the best mounted lad 
there ! ' 

"He immediately set to work to cut out and make up a 
hunting-shirt of dressed deer-skin, gayly fringed at the shoul- 
ders, with leggings of the same, fringed from hip to heel. He 
then made me a rakish raccoon-cap, with a flaunting tail to it ; 
mounted mo on his best horse ; and I may say, without vanity, 
that I was one of the smartest fellows that figured on that 
occasion, at the Pigeon Eoost Fork of the Muddy. 

"It was no small occasion, either, let me tell you. Bob 
Mosely's house was a tolerably large bark shanty, with a clap- 
board roof ; and there were assembled all the young hunters and 
pretty girls of the country, for many a mile round. The young 
men were in their best hunting-dresses, but not one could com- 
pare with mine ; and my raccoon-cap, with its flowing tail, was 
the admiration of everybody. The girls were mostly in doe- 
skin dresses ; for there was no spinning and weaving as yet in 
the woods ; nor any need of it. I never saw girls that seemed 
to me better dressed ; and I was somewhat of a judge, having 
seen fashions at Richmond. We had a hearty dinner, and a 
merry one ; for there was Jenuny Kiel, famous for raccoon- 
hunting, and Bob Tarleton, and Wesley Pigman, and Joe Tay- 
lor, and several other prime f eUows for a frohc, that made all 
ring again, and laughed, that you might have heard them a 
mile. 

"After dinner we began dancing, and were hard at it, when, 
about thi'ce o'clock in the afternoon, there was a new arrival — 
the two daughters of old Simon Schultz ; two young ladies that 
affected fashion and late hours. Their arrival had nearly put 
an end to all our merriment. I must go a Httle roundabout in 
my story to explain to you how that happened. 

' ' As old Schidtz, the father, was one day looking in the cane- 
brakes for his cattle, he came upon the track of horses. He 
knew they were none of liis, and that none of his neighbors bar* 
horses aboiit that place. They must be stray horses ; or must 
belong to some traveller who had lost his way, as the track led 
nowhere. He accordingly followed it up, until he came; to ar. 
unlucky peddler, with two or three pack-horses, who had been 
bewildered among the cattle-tracks, and had wandered for two 
or three days among woods and cane-brakes, tmtH he was almost 
famished. 

"Old Schultz brought him to liis house; fed him on venison, 
bear's lueat, and hominy, and at the end of a week put him in 



132 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

prime condition. The peddler could not sufficiently express his 
thankfulness; and when about to depart, inquired what he had 
to pay ^ Old Schidtz stepped back with surprise. ' Stranger,' 
said he, ' you have been welcome under my roof. I've given 
you nothing but wild meat and hominy, becaiise I had no bet- 
tor, but have been glad of your company. You are welcome 
to stay as long as you please ; but, by Zounds ! if any one offers 
to pay Simon Schultz for food he affronts him ! ' So saying, he 
walked out in a huff. 

" The peddler admired the hospitahty of his host, but could 
not reconcile it to his conscience to go away without making 
some recompense. There were honest Simon's two daughters, 
two strapping, red-haired girls. He opened his packs and dis- 
played riches before them of which they had no conception ; 
for in those days there were no country stores in those parts, 
with their artificial finery and trinketry ; and this vv^as the first 
peddler that had wandered into that jmrt of the wilderness. 
The gu'ls were for a time completely dazzled, and knew not 
what to choose: but what caught their eyes most were two 
looking-glasses, about the size of a dollar, set in gilt tin. They 
had never seen the like before, having used no other mirror 
than a pail of water. The peddler presented them with these 
jewels, without the least hesitation ; nay, he gallantly hung 
them round their necks by red ribbons, almost as fine, as the 
glasses themselves. This done, he took his departure, leaving 
them as much astonished as two princesses in a fahy tale, that 
have received a magic gift from an enchanter. 

"It was with these looking-glasses, hung round their necks 
as lockets, by red ribbons, that old Schultz's daughters made 
their appearance at three o'clock in the afternoon, at the frolic 
at Bob Mosely's, on the Pigeon Eoost Fork of the Muddy. 

"By the powers, but it was an event! Such a tiling had 
never before been seen in Kentucky. Bob Tarleton, a strap- 
ping fellow, with a head like a chestnut-burr, and a look like a 
boar in an apple orchard, stepped up, caught hold of the look- 
ing-glass of one of the girls, and gazing at it for a moment, 
cried out : ' Joe Taylor, come here ! come here ! I'll be darn'd 
if Patty Schultz ain't got a locket that you can see yom- face in, 
as clear as in a spring of water ! ' 

"In a twinkling all the young himters gathered round old 
Schultz's daughters. I, who knew what looking-glasses were, 
did not budge. Some of the girls who sat near me were ex- 
cessively mortified at finding themselves thus deserted. I heard 



EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 133 

Peggy Pugh say to Sally Pigman, * Goodness knows, it's well 
Schultz's daughters is got them things round their necks, for 
it's the first time the young men crowded round them ! ' 

"I saw immediately the danger of the case. We were a 
small community, and could not afford to be split up by feuds. 
So I stepped up to the girls, and whispered to them : ' Polly, ' 
said I, 'those lockets are powerful fine, and become you 
amazingly; but you don't consider that the country is not 
advanced enough in these parts for such things. You and I 
understand these matters, but these people don't. Fine things 
like these may do very well in the old settlements, but they 
won't answer at the Pigeon Roost Fork of the Muddy. You 
had better lay them aside for the present, or we shall have no 
peace.' 

' ' Polly and her sister luckily saw their error ; they took off 
the lockets, laid them aside, and harmony was restored : other- 
wise, I verily believe there woiild have been an end of our 
community. Indeed, notwithstanding the gi-eat sacrifice they 
made on this occasion, I do not think old Schultz's daughters 
were ever much liked aftei'ward among the young women. 

" This was the first time that looking-glasses were ever seen 
in the Green River part of Kentucky. 

' ' I had now lived some time with old Miller, and had become 
a tolerably expert hunter. Game, however, began to grow 
scarce. The buffalo had gathered together, as if by universal 
understanding, and had crossed the Mississippi, never to re- 
turn. Strangers kept pouring into the country, clearing away 
the forests, and building in all dii'ections. The himters began 
to grow restive. Jemmy Kiel, the same of whom I have already 
spoken for his skill in raccoon catching, came to me one day: 
' I can't stand this any longer,' said he ; ' we're getting too thick 
here. Simon Schultz crowds me so, that I have no comfort of 
my Mfe.' 

" ' Why, how you talk ! ' said I ; ' Simon Schultz lives twelve 
miles off. ' 

'"No matter; his cattle run with mine, and I've no idea of 
living where another man's cattle can run with mine. That's 
too close neighborhood; I want elbow-room. This country, 
too, is gro-^Wng too poor to hve in ; there's no game ; so two or 
three of us have made up our minds to follow the buffalo to the 
Missouri, and we should like to have you of the party.' Other 
hunters of my acquaintance talked in the same manner. This 
set me thinking; but the more I thought the more I w^as per- 



134 I'l^E CRAYOX PAPERS. 

plexed. I had no one to advise with; old Miller and his asso- 
ciates knew but of one mode of life, and I had had no experience 
in any other: but I had a wider scope of thought. When out 
himting alone I used to forget the sport, and sit for hours to- 
gether on the tmnk of a tree, with rifle in hand, buried in 
thought, and debating with myself: 'Shall I go with Jenuny 
Kiel and liis company, or shall I remain here? If I remain here 
there will soon be nothing left to hunt ; but am I to be a hunter 
all my life? Have not I something more in me than to be 
carrying a rifle on my shoulder, day after day, and dodging 
about after bears, and deer, and other brute beasts? ' My vanity 
told me I had ; and I called to mind my boyish boast to my 
sister, that I would never return home, until I retm'ned a 
member of Congress from Kentucky; but was this the way to 
fit myself for such a station? 

"Various plans passed through my mind, but they were 
abandoned almost as soon as formed. At length I determined 
on becoming a lawyer. True it is, I knew almost nothing. I 
had left school before I had learned beyond the 'i-ule of three.' 
'Never mind,' said I to myself, resolutely; 'lam a terrible 
feUow for hanging on to anything when I've once made up my 
mind ; and if a man has but ordinary capacity, and wiU set to 
work with heart and soul, and stick to it, he can do almost 
anything.' With this maxim, which has been pretty much 
my main-stay thi'oughout life, I fortified myself in my deter- 
mination to attempt the law. But how was I to set about it? 
I must quit this forest life, and go to one or other of the towns, 
where I might be able to study, and to attend the courts. This 
too required funds. I examined into the state of my finances. 
The purse given me by my father had remained vm.touched, in 
the bottom of an old chest up in the loft, for money was scarcely • 
needed in these parts. I had bargained away the skins ac- 
quired in hunting, for a horse and various other matters, on 
which, in case of need, I could raise funds. I therefore thought 
I coidd make shift to maintain myseK until I was fitted for the 
bar. 

" I informed my woi-thy host and patron, old Miller, of my 
plan. He shook his head at my turning my back upon the 
woods, when I was in a fair way of making a first-rate hunter ; 
but he made no effort to dissuade me. I accordingly set off in 
September, on horseback, intending to visit Lexing-ton, Frank- 
fort, and other of the principal towns, in search of a favorable 
place to prosecute my studies. My choice was made sooner 



EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 135 

than I expected. I had put up one night at Bardstown, and 
found, on inquiry, that I could get comfortable board and ac- 
connnodation in a private family ilv a dollar and a half a week. 
I liked the place, and resolved to look no farther. So the next 
morning I prepared to turn my face homeward, and take my 
final leave of forest life. 

"I had taken my breakfast, and was waiting for my horse, 
when, in pacing up and down the piazza, I saw a young gu-l 
seated near a window, evidently a visitor. She was very 
pretty; with auburn hair and blue eyes, and was dressed in 
white. I had seen nothing of the kind since I had left Eich- 
mond ; and at that time I was too much of a boy to be much 
struck by female charms. She was so dehcate and dainty- 
looking, so different from the hale, buxom, brown girls of the 
woods ; and then her white dress ! — it was perfectly dazzling ! 
Never was poor youth more taken by surprise, and suddenly 
bewitched. My heart yearned to know her; i)ut how was I 
to accost her? I had grown wild in the woods, and had none 
of the habitudes of pohte life. Had she been like Peggy Pugh 
or Sally Pigman, or any other of my leathern-dressed belles of 
the Pigeon Roost, I should have approached her without dread ; 
nay, had she been as fair as Schultz's daughters, with their 
looking-glass lockets. I should not have hesitated; but that 
white dress, and those aubum ringlets, and blue eyes, and deh- 
cate locks, quite daunted, while they fascinated me. I don't 
know what put it into my head, but I thought, all at once, that 
I would kiss her ! It would take a long acquaintance to arrive 
at such a boon, but I might seize upon it by sheer robbery. 
Nobody knew me here. I would just step in, snatch a kiss, 
mount my horse, and ride off. She would not be the worse for 
it; and that kiss — oh ! I should die if I did not get it ! 

"I gave no time for the thought to cool, but entered the 
house, and stepped lightly into the room. She was seated with 
her back to the door, looking out at the window, and did not 
hear my approach. I tapped her chair, and as she turned and 
looked up, I snatched as sweet a kiss as ever was stolen, and 
vanished in a twinkling. The next moment I was on horse- 
back, galloping homeward; my very ears tinghng at what I 
had done. 

"On my return home I sold my horse, and turned every 
thing to cash; and found, with the remains of the paternal 
purse, that I had nearly four hundred dollars ; a little capital 
which I resolved to manage with the strictest economv. 



136 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

"It was hard parting with old Miller, who had been hkea 
father to me ; it cost me, too, something of a struggle to give 
up the free, independent wild-wood life I had hitherto led ; but 
I had marked out my course, and had never been one to flinch 
or turn back. 

"I footed it sturdily to Bardstown; took possession of the 
quarters for which I had bargained, shut myself up, and set to 
work with might and main to study. But what a task I had 
before me! I had everything to learn; not merely law, but all 
the elementary branches of knowledge. I read and read, for 
sixteen hours out of the f our-and-twenty ; but the more I read 
the more I became aware of my own ignorance, and shed bitter 
tears over my deficiency. It seemed as if the wilderness of 
knowledge expanded and grew more perplexed as I advanced. 
Every height gained only revealed a wider region to be trav- 
ersed, and nearly filled me with despair, I grew moody, silent, 
and unsocial, but studied on doggedly and incessantly. The 
only person with whom I held any conversation was the worthy 
man in whose house I was quartered. He was honest and well- 
meaning, but perfectly ignorant, and I believe would have 
liked me much better if I had not been so much addicted to 
reading. He considered aU books fiUed with lies and imposi- 
tions, and seldom could look into one without finding something 
to rouse his spleen. Nothing put him into a greater passion 
than the assertion that the world turned on its own axis every 
f our-and-twenty hours. He swore it was an outrage upon com- 
mon sense. ' Why, if it did, ' said he, ' there would not be a 
drop of water in the well by morning, and all the milk and 
cream in the dairy would be turned topsy-turvy ! And then to 
talk of the earth going round the sun! How do they know it? 
I've seen the sun rise every morning, and set every evening, for 
more than thirty years. They must not talk to me about the 
earth's going round the sun ! ' 

"At another time he was in a perfect fret at being told the 
distance between the sun and moon. ' How can any one tell 
the distance?' cried he. 'Who surveyed it? who carried the 
chain ? By Jupiter ! they only talk this way before me to annoy 
me. But then there's some people of sense who give in to tliis 
cursed humbug ! There's Judge Broadnax, now, one of the best 
lawyers w^e have ; isn't it surprising he should believe in such 
stulf ? Why, sir, the other day I heard him talk of the distance 
from a star ho called Mars to the sun ! He must have got it 
out of one or other of those confounded books he's so fond of 



EARLY liXPEUJl'JNCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. I37 

reading; a book some impudent fellow has -written, who knew 
nobody could swear the distance was more or less.' 

" For my own part, feehng my own deficiency in scientific 
lore, I never vent\u-ed to imsettle his conviction that the sun 
made his daily circuit romid the earth ; and for aught I said to 
the contrary, he lived and died in that belief. 

" I had been about a year at Bardstown, living thus stu- 
diously and reclusely, when, as I was one day walking the 
street, I met two young girls, in one of whom I immediately 
recalled the little beauty whom I had kissed so impudently. 
She blushed up to the eyes, and so did I ; but we both passed 
on without further sign of recognition. This second glimpse of 
her, however, caused an odd fluttering about my heart. I 
could not get her out of my thoughts for days. She quite 
interfered with my studies. I tried to think of her as a mere 
child, but it would not do ; she had improved in beauty, and 
was tending toward womanhood ; and then I myself was but 
little better than a stripling. However, I did not attempt to 
seek after her, or even to find oiit who she was, but returned 
doggedly to my books. By degrees she faded from my 
thoughts, or if she did cross them occasionally, it was only to 
increase my despondency ; for I feared that with all my exer- 
tions, I should never be able to fit myself for the bar, or enable 
myself to support a wife. 

" One cold stormy evening I was seated, in diunpish mood, 
in the bar-room of the inn, looking into the fire, and turning 
over uncomfortable thoughts, when I was accosted by some 
one who had entered the room without my perceiving it. I 
looked up, and saw before me a tall and, as I thought, pom- 
pous-looking man, arrayed in small-clothes and knee-buckles, 
with powdered head, and shoes nicely blacked and pohshed; 
a style of dress unparalleled in those days, in that rough 
country. I took a pique against him from the very portliness 
of liis appearance, and statcliness of his manner, and bristled 
up as he accosted me. He demanded if my name was not 
Eingvvood. 

" I was startled, for I supposed myseK perfectly incog. ; but 
I answered in the affirmative. 

" ' Your family, I believe, lives in Richmond?' 

"My gorge began to rise. 'Yes, sir,' replied I, sulkily, 'my 
family does lives in Richmond.' 

" 'And what, may I ask, has brought you into this part oi 
the country?' 



138 1'Jll^ CRA YON PAPERS. 

'"Zoimds, sir '.'cried I, starting on my feet, 'what busi« 
ness is it of yours? How dare you to question me in this 
manner? ' 

"The entrance of some persons prevented a reply; but I 
walked up and down the bar-room, fiuning ^vith conscious in- 
dependence and insulted dignity, while the pompous-looking 
personage, who had thus trespassed iipon my spleen, retired 
'.vithout proffering another word. 

'• The next day, while seated in my room, some one tapped at 
the door, and, on being bid to enter, the stranger in the pow- 
dered head, small-clothes, and shining shoes and buckles, 
walked in with ceremonious coui'tesy. 

"My boyish pride Avas again in arms; but he subdued me. 
He was formal, but land and friendly. He knew my family 
and imderstood my situation, and the dogged stiniggle I was 
making. A little conversation, when my jealous pride was 
once put to rest, drew everything from mo. He was a lawyer 
of experience and of extensive practice, and offered at once to 
take me with him, and direct my studies. The offer was too 
advantageous and gratifying not to be immediately accepted. 
From that time I began to look up. I was put into a proper 
track, and was enabled to study to a proper purpose. I made 
acquaintance, too, with some of the young men of the -place, 
who were in the same pursuit, and was encouraged at finding 
that I could ' hold my own ' in argument with them. We insti- 
tuted a debating club, in which I soon became prominent and 
popular. Men of talents, engaged in other pursuits, joined it, 
and this diversified our subjects, and put me on various tracks 
of inquiry. Ladies, too, attended some of our discussions, anu 
this gave them a polite tone, and had an influence on the man- 
ners of the deba.ters. My legal patron also may have had a 
favorable effect in correcting any roughness contracted in ray 
hunter's life. He was calculated to bend me in an opposite 
direction, for he was of the old school ; quoted Chesterfield on 
all occasions, and talked of Sir Charles Grandison, who was 
his beau ideal. It was Sir Charles Grandison, however, Een- 
tuckyized. 

' ' I had always been fond of female society. My experience, 
however, had hitherto been among the rough daughters of the 
backwoodsmen; and I felt an awe of young ladies in 'store 
clothes,' and delicately In-ought up. Two or three of the mar- 
ried ladies of Bardstown, who had heard me at the debating 
club, determined that I was a genius, and undertook to bring 



EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 139 

me out. I believe I really improved under their hands ; became 
quiet where I had been shy or sulky, and easy where I had 
been impudent. 

"I called to take tea one evening with one of these ladies, 
when to my surprise, and somewhat to my confusion, I found 
with her the identical blue-eyed little beauty whom I had so 
audaciously kissed. I was formally introduced to her, but 
neither of us betrayed any sign of previous acquaintance, ex- 
cept by blushing to the eyes. While tea was getting ready, 
the lady of the house went out of the room to give some direc- 
tions, and left us alone. 

' ' Heavens and earth, what a situation ! I would have given 
all the pittance I wa.s worth to have been in the deepest dell of 
the forest. I felt the necessity of saying something in excuse 
of my former rudeness, but I could not conjure up an idea, 
nor utter a word. Every moment matters were growing 
worse. I felt at one time tempted to do as I had done when 
I robbed her of the kiss: bolt from the room, and take to 
flight; but I was chamed to the spot, for I really longed to 
gain her good- will. 

"At length I plucked up coui'age, on seeing that she was 
equally confused with myself, and walking desperately up to 
her, I exclaimed : 

" ' I have been trying to muster up something to say to you, 
but I cannot. I feel that I am in a horrible scrape. Do have 
l)ity on me, and help me out of it.' 

' ' A smile dimpled about her mouth, and played among the 
blushes of her cheek. She looked up with a shy, but arch 
glance of the eye, that expressed a volume of comic recollec- 
tion; we both broke into a laugh, and from that moment all 
went on well. 

" A few evenings afterward I met her at a dance, and pro- 
secuted the acquaintance. I soon became deeply attached to 
her ; paid my court regularly ; and before I was nineteen years 
of age, had engaged myself to marry her. I spoke to her 
mother, a widow lady, to ask her consent. She seemed to 
demur; xipon which, with my customary haste, I told her 
there would be no use in opposing the match, for if her daugh- 
ter chose to have me, I would take her, in defiance of her 
family, and the whole world. 

"She laughed, and told mo I need not give m^yself any un- 
easiness; there would bo no unreasonable opposition. She 
knew my family and all about me. The only obstacle was, 



140 Till-: CRAYON PAPERS. 

that I had no means of supporting a "svife, and she had noth^ 
ing to give witli her daughter. 

•'No ma.ttcr; at that moment everything was bright before 
me. I VN^as in one oi" my sanguine moods. I feared nothing, 
doubted nothing. So it was agreed that I should prosecute my 
studies, obtain a license, and as soon as I shoidd be faiiiy 
launched in business, we would be married. 

"I now prosecuted my studies with redoubled ardor, and 
was up to my ears in law. when I received a letter from my 
father, who had heard of mq and my whereabouts. He ap- 
plauded the course I had taken, but advised me to lay a foun- 
dation of general knowledge, and offered to defray my expenses, 
if I would go to coUege. I felt the want of a general education, 
and was staggered with this offer. It militated somewhat 
against the self-dependent course I had so proudly, or rather 
conceitedly, marked out for myself, but it would enable me to 
enter more advantageously upon my legal career. I talked 
over the matter with the lovely girl to whom I was engaged. 
She sided in opinion ^^dth my father, and talked so disinter- 
estedly, yet tenderly, that if possible, I loved her more than 
ever. I reluctantlj^, therefore, agreed to go to college for a 
couple of years, though it must necessarily postpone our 
union. 

"Scarcely had I formed this resolution, when her mother 
was taken OI, and died, leaving her without a protector. This 
again altered all my plans. I felt as if I coidd protect her. I 
gave up all idea of collegiate studies; persuaded myself that 
by dint of industry and apphcation I might overcome the 
deficiencies of education, and resolved to take out a hcense as 
soon as possible. 

"That very autumn I was admitted to the bar, and within a 
month afterward was married. We were a young couple, she 
not much above sixteen, I not quite twenty ; and both ahnost 
without a dollar in the world. The establishment which we 
set up was suited to our circumstances : a log-house, with two 
small rooms ; a bed, a table, a half dozen chairs, a half dozen 
knives and forks, a half dozen spoons; everything by half 
dozens; a Httle delft ware; everything in a small way: we 
were so poor, but then so happy ! 

"We had not been married many days, when court was held 
at a county town, about twenty-five miles distant. It was 
necessary for me to go there, and put myself in the way of 
business ; but how was I to go ? "^ bad expended all my means 



EARLY EXPERIE]SCI<:8 OF RALPH RING WOOD. 141 

on our establishment ; and then it was hard parting with my 
wife so soon after marriage. However, go I must. Money 
must be made, or we should soon have the woli at the door. 
1 accordingly borrowed a horse, and borrowed a little cash, 
and rode off from my door, leaving my wife standing at it, 
and waving her hand after me. Her last look, so sweet and 
beaming, went to my heart. I felt as if I could go through 
fire and water for her. 

' ' I arrived at the county town on a cool October evening. 
The iim was crowded, for the court was to commence on the 
following day. I knew no one, and wondered how I, a stranger, 
and a mere youngster, was to make my way in such a crowd, 
and to get business. The public room was tlu'onged with the 
idlers of the country, who gather together on such occasions. 
There was some drinking going forward, with much noise, and 
a Uttle altercation. Just as 1 entered the room I saw a rough 
bully of a fellow, who was partly intoxicated, strike an old 
man. He came swaggermg by me, and elbowed me as he 
passed. I immediately knocked him down, and kicked biTn 
into the street. I needed no better introduction. In a mo- 
ment I had a dozen rough shakes of the hand, and invitations 
to drink, and found myself quite a personage in this rough 
assembly. 

"The next morning the court opened. I took my seat 
among the lawyers, but felt as a mere spectator, not having 
a suit in progress or prospect, nor having any idea where busi- 
ness was to come from. In the course of the morning a man 
was put at the bar, charged with passing counterfeit money, 
and was asked if he was ready for trial. He answered in the 
negative. He had been confined in a place where there were 
no lawyers, and had not had an opportunity of consulting any. 
He was told to choose counsel from the lawyers present, and 
to be ready for trial on the following day. He looked round 
the court and selected me. I was thunder-struck. I could not 
tell why he should make such a choice. I, a beardless young- 
ster; unpractised at the bar; perfectly imknown. I felt diffi- 
dent yet delighted, and could have hugged the rascal. 

' ' Before leaving the court he gave me one hundred doUars 
in a bag as a retaining fee. I could scarcely believe my senses; 
it seemed hke a dream. The heaviness of the fee spoke but 
lightly in favor of his innocence, but that was no affair of 
mine. I was to be advocate, not judge nor jury. I followed 
Mm to jail, and learned from liim aU the particulars of his 



142 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

case ; from thence I went to the clerk's office and took minutes 
of the indictment. I then examined the law on the subject, 
and prepared my brief in my I'oom. All this occupied me 
until midnight, when I went to bed and tried to sleep. It was 
all in vain. Never in my life was I more wide-awake. A host 
of thoughts and fancies kept rushing thi'ough my mind ; the 
shower of gold that had so expectedly fallen into my lap ; the 
idea of my poor Kttle ^^^f e at home, that I was to astonish 
v/ith my good fortune ! But then the awful responsibihty I 
had imdertaken! — to speak for the first time in a strange 
court; the expectations the culprit had evidently formed of 
my talents; £dl these, and a crowd of similar notions, kept 
whirling through my mind. I tossed about all night, fearing 
the morning woidd find me exhausted and incompetent ; in a 
word, the day dawned on me, a miserable fellow ! 

"I got up feverish and nervous. I walked out before break- 
fast, striving to collect my thoughts, and tranquillize my feel- 
ings. It was a bright morning ; the air was pure and frosty. 
I bathed my forehead and my hands in a beautiful running 
stream; but I could not allay the fever heat that raged within. 
I returned to breakfast, but coTild not eat. A single cup of 
coffee formed my repast. It was time to go to court, and I 
went there with a throbbing heart. I believe if it had not been 
for the thoughts of my little wife, in her lonely log house, I 
should have given back to the man his hundred dollars, and 
relinquished the cause. I took my seat, looking, I am con- 
vinced, more like a culprit than the rogue I was to defend. 

' ' When the time came for me to speak, my heart died with- 
in me. I rose embari-assed and dismayed, and stammered in 
opening my cause. I went on from bad to worse, and felt as 
if I was going down hill. Just then the public prosecutor, a 
man of talents, but somewhat rough in liis practice, made a 
sarcastic remark on something I had said. It was like an 
electric spark, and ran tingling through every vein in my 
body. In an instant my diffidence was gone. My whole spirit 
Avas in anns. I answered -svith promptness and bitterness, for 
I felt the cruelty of svich an attack upon a novice in my situa- 
tion. The public prosecutor made a kind of apology; this, 
from a man of his redoubted powers, was a vast concession. 
I renewed my argument with a fearless glow ; carried the case 
through triumphantly, and the man was acquitted. 

"This was the making of me Everybody was curious to 
know who this new lawyer was, that had thus suddenly risen 



EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RiNOWOOD. 143 

among them, and bearded the attorney-general at the very- 
outset. The story of my debut at the inn on the preceding 
evening, when I had knocked do\rn a buUy, and kicked him 
out of doors for striking an old man, was circulated with 
favorable exaggerations. Even my very beardless chin and 
juvenile countenance were in my favor, for people gave me 
far more credit than I really deserved. The chance business 
■which occurs in our country courts came thronging upon me. 
I was I'epeatedl}^ employed in other causes ; and by Saturday 
night, when the court closed, and I had paid my bill at the 
inn, I found myseK with a liLindred and fifty dollars in silver, 
three hundred dollars in notes, and a horse that I afterward 
sold for two hundred dollars more. 

"Never did miser gloat on his money with more dehght. I 
locked the door of my room ; piled the money in a heap upon 
the table; walked round it; sat with my elbows on the table, 
and my chin upon my hands, and gazed upon it. Was I 
thinking of the money? No! I was thinking of my httle 
wife at home. Another sleepless night ensued; but what a 
night of golden fancies, and splendid air-castles ! As soon as 
mornmg dawned, I was up, mounted the borrowed horse with 
which I had come to court, and led the other which I had re- 
ceived as a fee. All the way I was delighting myself with the 
thoughts of the surprise I had in store for my httle wife, for 
both of us had expected nothing but that I shoidd spend all 
the money I had borrowed, and should return ia debt. 

'' Our meeting was joyous, as you may suppose: but I played 
the part of the Indian hunter, who, when he returns from the 
chase, never for a time speaks of his success. She had pre- 
pared a snug little rustic meal for mo, and while it was getting 
ready I seated myself at an old-fashioned desk in one corner, 
and began to count over my money, and put it away. She 
came to me before I had finished, and asked who I had col- 
lected the money for. 

" 'For myself, to be sure,' replied I, with affected coolness; 
' I made it at court.' 

" She looked me for a moment in the face, incredidously. I 
tried to keep my countenance, and to play Indian, but it would 
not do. My muscles began to twitch ; my feelings all at once 
gave way. I caught her in my arms; laughed, cried, and 
danced about the room, like a crazy man. From that time 
forward, we never wanted for money. 

" I had not been long in successful practice, when I was sui'- 



i i4 ^'^^^ CRAYON PAPERS. 

prised one day by a visit from my woodland patron, old Miller. 
The tidings of my prosperity had reached him in the wilder- 
ness, and he had walked one hundred and fifty miles on foot 
to see me. By that time I had improved my domestic estab- 
lishment, and had all things comfortable about me. He looked 
around hun with a wondering eye, at what he considered luxu- 
ries and superfluities ; but supposed they were all right in my 
altered circumstances. He said he did not know, upon the 
whole, but that I had acted for the best. It is true, if game 
had contmued plenty, it would have been a folly for me to quit 
a hunter's life ; but hunting was pretty nigh done up in Ken- 
tucky. The buffalo had gone to Missouri ; the elk were nearly 
gone also ; deer, too, were growing scarce ; they might last out 
his time, as he was growing old, but they were not worth set- 
ting up life upon. He had once hved on the borders of Vir- 
ginia. Game grew scarce there ; he followed it up across Ken- 
tucky, and now it was again giving him the slip ; but he was 
too old to follow it farther. 

' ' He remained with us three days. My wife did everything 
in her power to make him comfortable ; but at the end of that 
time he said he must be off again to the woods. He was tired 
of the vOlage, and of having so many people about him.* Ho 
accordingly returned to the wilderness and to hunting life. 
But I fear he did not make a good end of it ; for I understand 
that a few years before his death he married Sukey Thomas, 
who lived at the White Oak Eun." 



THE SEMINOLES. 



From the time of the chimerical cruisings of Old Ponce de 

Leon in search of the Foimtain of Youth, the avaricious expe- 
dition of Pamphilo de Narvaez in quest of gold, and the chival- 
rous enterprise of Hernando de Soto, to discover and conquer 
a second Mexico, the natives of Florida have been continually 
subjected to the invasions and encroachments of white men. 
They have resisted them persevering! y but fruitlessly, and are 
now battling amid swamps and morasses for the last foothold 
of their native soil, with all the ferocity of despair. Can we 
wonder at the bitterness of a hostility that has been handed 
down from father to son. for unward of three centuries, and 



THE SEMINOLES. I45 

exasperated by the wrongs and miseries of each succeeding 
generation ! The very name of the savages with whom we are 
fighting betokens their fallen and homeless condition. Formed 
of the wrecks of once powerful tribes, and driven from their 
ancient seats of prospeiity and dominion, they are known by 
the name of the Seminoles, or "Wanderers." 

Bartram, who travelled through Florida in the latter part of 
the last century, speaks of passing through a great extent of 
ancient Indian fields, now silent and deserted, overgrown with 
forests, orange groves, and rank vegetation, the site of the 
ancient Alachua, the capital of a famous and powerful tribe, 
who in days of old could assemble thousands at bull-play and 
other athletic exercises "over these then happy fields and 
green plains." "Almost every step we take," adds he, " over 
these fertile heights, discovers the remains and traces of 
ancient human habitations and cultivation." 

About the year 1763, when Florida was ceded by the Span- 
iards to the Eughsh, we are told that the Indians generally 
retired from the to\vns and the neighborhood of the whites, 
and burjang themselves in the deep forests, intricate swamps 
and hommocks, and vast savannas of the interior, devoted 
themselves to a pastoral life, and the rearing of horses and 
cattle. These are the people that i-eceived the name of the 
Seminoles, or Wanderers, which they stOl retain. 

Bartram gives a pleasmg picture of them at the time he vis- 
ited them in their wilderness ; where their distance from the 
abodes of the white man gave them a transient quiet and 
security. " This handful of people," says he, " possesses a vast 
territory, all East and the greatest part of West Florida, 
which being naturally cut and divided into thousands of 
islets, knoUs, and eminences, by the innumerable rivers, lakes, 
swamps, vast savannas, and ponds, form so many secure re- 
treats and temporary dAvelling places that effectually guard 
them from any sudden invasions or attacks from their ene- 
mies; and being thus a swampy, hommocky country, fur- 
nishes such a plenty and variety of supplies for the nourish- 
ment of varieties of animals, that I can venture to assert that 
no part of the globe so abounds with wild game, or creatures 
fit for the food of man. 

" Thus they enjoy a superabundance of the necessaries and 
conveniences of life, with the security of person and property, 
the two great concerns of mankind. The hides of deer, bears, 
tigers, and wolves, together with honey, wax, and other pro- 



146 TUE CRAYOy PAPERS. 

ductions of the country, purchase their clothing equipage and 
domestic utensils from the whites. They seem to be free from 
want or desires. No cruel enemy to dread ; nothing to give 
them disquietude, but the gradual encroachments of the ichite 
X>eople. Thus contented and undisturbed, they appear as blithe 
and free as the birds of the air, and hke them as volatile and 
active, tuneful and vociferous. The visage, action, and deport- 
ment of the Seminoles form the most striking picture of hap- 
piness in this life; joy, contentment, love, and friendship, 
without guile or affectation, seem inherent in them, or pre- 
dominant in their vital principle, for it leaves them with but 

the last breath of life They are fond of games and 

gambling, and amuse themselves hke children, in relating 
extravagant stories, to cause surprise and mirth," * 

The same writer gives an engaging picture of his treatment 
by these savages : 

' ' Soon after entering the forests, we were met in the path 
by a small company of Indians, smihng and beckoning to us 
long before we joined them. This was a family of Talaha- 
sochte, who had been out on a hunt and were returning home 
loaded with barbecued meat, liides, and honey. Their company 
consisted of the man, his wife and children, well mounted on 
fine horses, with a number of pack-horses. The man offered 
us a fawn skin of honey, which I accepted, and at parting 
presented hun with some fish-hooks, sewing-needles, etc. 

" On our return to camp in the evening, we were saluted by 
a party of young Indian warriors, who had pitched their tents 
on a green eminence near the lake, at a smaU distance from our 
camp, under a little grove of oaks and palms. This company 
consisted of seven young Seminoles, under the conduct of a 
young prince or chief of Talahasochte, a town southward in the 
isthmus. They were aU dressed and painted with singular 
elegance, and richly ornamented with silver plates, chains, 
etc., after the Seminole mode, with waving plumes of feathers 
on their crests. On our coming up to them, they arose and 
shook hands ; we ahghted and sat awhile with them by their 
cheerful fire. 

" The young prince informed our cliief that he was in pur- 
suit of a young feUow who had fled from the town carrying 
off with him one of his favorite young wives. He said, mer- 
rily, he would have the ears of both of them before he returned. 



* Bartrani's Travels in North America. 



THE SEMINOLES. 147 

He was rather above the middle stature, and the most perfect 
human figure I ever saw; of an amiable, engaging counte- 
nance, air, and deportment; free and familiar in conversation, 
yet retaining a becoming gracefulness and dignity. We arose, 
took leave of them, and crossed a httle vale, covered vrith a 
charming green turf, already Olmninated by the soft Hght ot 
the full moon. 

"Soon after joining our companions at camp, our neigh 
bors, the prince and his associates, paid us a visit. We treated 
them with the best fare we had, having till this time preserver' 
our spirituous Uquors. They left us with perfect cordiality 
and cheerfulness, wishing us a good repose, and retired to 
their own camp. Having a band of music with them, con- 
sisting of a drum, flutes, and a rattle-gourd, they entertained 
us during the night with their music, vocal and instrumental. 

There is a languishing softness and melancholy air m the 
Indian convivial songs, especially of the amorous class, irre- 
sistibly moving attention, and exquisitely pleasing, especially 
in their soUtary recesses, when aU nature is silent." 

Travellers who have been among them, in more recent 
times, before they had embarked in their present desperate 
struggle, represent them in much the same hght; as leading 
a pleasant, indolent life, in a chmato that required httle 
shelter or clothing, and where the spontaneous fruits of the 
earth furnished subsistence without toil. A cleanly race, de- 
lighting in bathing, passing much of their time under the 
shade of their trees, with heaps of oranges and other fine 
frmts for their refreshment; talking, laughing, dancing and 
sleeping. Every chief had a fan hanging to his side, made 
of feathers of the Avild turkey, the beautiful pink-colored 
crane or the scarlet flamingo. With this he would sit and fan 
himself with great statehness, while the young people danced 
before bim. The women joined in the dances with the men, 
excepting the war-dances. They wore strings of tortoise-slic^lls 
and pebbles round their legs, which rattled in cadence to the 
music. They were treated with more attention among the 
Seminoles than among most Indian tribes. 

ORIGIN OF THE WHITE, THE RED, AND THE BLACK MEN. 
A SEMINOLE TRADITION. 

When the Floridas were erected into a territory of the 
United States, one of the earhest cares of the Governor 



148 ^^-'^ URATON PAPERS. 

William P. Duval, was directed to the instruction and civiliza- 
tion of the natives. For this purpose he called a meeting 
of the chiefs, in which he informed them of the wish of their 
Great Father at Washington that they should have schools 
and teachers among them, and that their children should be 
instructed like the children of white men. The chiefs listened 
with their customary silence and decorum to a long speech, 
setting forth the advantages that woiild accrue to them from 
this measure, and when he had concluded, begged the interval 
of a day to dehberate on it. 

On the following day a solemn convocation was held, at 
which one of the chiefs addressed the governor in the name of 
all the rest. " My brother," said he, " we have been thinking 
over the proposition of our Great Father at Washmgton, to 
send teachers and set up schools among us. We are very 
thankful for the interest he takes in our welfare; but after 
much dehberation, have concluded to decline his offer. What 
will do very well for white men, wiE not do for red men. 
I know you white men say we all come from the same father 
and mother, but you are mistaken. We have a tradition 
handed down from our forefathers, and we beheve it, that the 
Great Spirit when he undertook to make men, made the black 
man ; it was his first attempt, and pretty well for a beginning ; 
but he soon saw he had bimgled ; so he determined to try his 
hand again. He did so, and made the red man. He hked him 
much better than the black man, but still he was not exactly 
what he wanted. So he tried once more, and made the white 
man ; and then he was satisfied. You see, therefore, that you 
were made last, and that is the reason I call you my youngest 
brother. 

"When the Great Spirit had made the three men, he 
called them together and showed them three boxes. The first 
was filled with books, and maps, and papers ; the second with 
bows and arrows, knives and tomahawks; the third with 
spades, axes, hoes, and hammers. ' These, my sons, ' said he, 
' are the means by which you are to five : choose among them 
according to your fancy. ' 

"The white man, being the favorite, had the first choice. 
He passed by the box of working-tools without notice; but 
when he came to the weapons for war and hunting, he stopped 
and looked hard at them. The red man trembled, for he had 
set his heart upon that box. The white man, however, after 
looking upon it for a moment, passed on, and chose the box 



THE SEMIN0LE8. I49 

of books and papers. The red man's turn came next; and 
you may be sure he seized with joy upon the bows and ar- 
rows and tomahawks. As to the black man, he had no choice 
left but to put up with the box of tools. 

' ' From this it is clear that the Great Spirit intended the 
white man should learn to read and write ; to understand all 
about the moon and stars; and to make everything, even 
rum and whiskey. That the red man should be a first-rate 
hunter, and a mighty warrior, but he was not to learn any- 
thing from books, as the G-reat Spirit had not given him 
any: nor was he to make rum and whiskey, lest he should 
kill himself with drinking. As to the black man, as he had 
nothing but workhig-tools, it was clear he was to work for 
the white and red man, which he has continued to do. 

' ' We must go according to the wishes of the Great Spirit, 
or we shall get into trouble. To know how to read and writft 
is very good for white men, but very bad for red men. Il 
makes white men better, but red men worse. Some of the 
Creeks and Cherokees learned to read and write, and they 
are the greatest rascals among all the Indians. They went 
on to Washington, and said they were going to see their Great 
Father, to talk about the good of the nation. And when 
they got there, they all wrote upon a little piece of paper, 
without the nation at home knowing anything about it. And 
the first tiling the nation at home knew of the matter, they 
were called together by the Indian agent, who showed them a 
little piece of paper, which he told them was a treaty, which 
their brethren had made in their name, ^vith their Great Father 
at Washington. And as they knew not what a treaty was, he 
held up the little piece of paper, and they looked under it, and 
lo ! it covered a great extent of country, and they found that 
their brethren, by knowing how to read and write, had sold 
their houses and tiieir lands and the graves of their fathers ; 
and that the white man, by knowing how to read and write, 
had gained them. Tell our Great Father at Washington, 
therefore, that we are very sorry we cannot receive teachers 
among us ; for reading and writing, though very good for 
white men, is very bad for the Indians." 



150 THE CRAYON PA PEES. 



THE CONSPIRACY OF NEAMATHLA. 

AN AUTHENTIC SKETCH. 

In the autumn of 1833, Governor Duval, and other commis- 
sioners on the pai-t of the United States, concluded a treaty 
with the chiefs and warriors of the Florida Indians, by which 
the latter, for certain considerations, ceded aU claims to the 
whole territory, excepting a district in the eastern part, to 
which they were to remove, and within which they were to 
eside for twenty years. Several of the chiefs signed the 
treaty with gi-eat reluctance; but none opposed it more 
strongly than Neamathla, principal chief of the Mickasookies, 
a fierce and warlike people, many of them Creeks by origin, 
who hved about the Mickasookie lake. Neamathla had always 
been active in those depredations on the frontiers of Georgia, 
which had brought vengeance and ruin on the Seminoles. He 
was a remarkable man ; upward of sixty years of age, about 
six feet high, with a fine eye, and a strongly marked counte- 
nance, over which he possessed great command. His hatred 
of the white men appeared to be mixed with contempt : on the 
common people he looked down with infinite scorn. He 
seemed unwilling to acknowledge any superiority of rank or 
dignity in Governor Duval, claiming to associate with him on 
terms of equality, as two great chieftains. Though he had 
been prevailed upon to sign the treaty, his heart revolted at it. 
In one of his frank conversations with Governor Duval, he 
observed: " This country belongs to the red man; and if I had 
the number of warriors at my command that this nation once 
had, I would not leave a white man on my lands. I would 
exterminate the whole. I can say this to you, for you can 
understand me ; you are a man ; but I would not say it to your 
people. They'd cry out I was a savage, and would take my 
life. They cannot appreciate the feelings of a man that loves 
his country." 

As Florida had but recently been erected into a territory, 
everything as yet was in rude and simple style. The gover- 
nor, to make himself acquainted with the Indians, and to be 
near at hand to keep an eye upon them, fixed his residence at 
Tallahassee, near the Fowel towns, inhabited by the Micka- 
sookies. His government palace for a time was a mere log 



TUE CONSPIRACY OF NEAMATIILA. 151 

fioiise, and he lived on hunters' fare. The village of Neamath- 
la was but about three miles off, and thither the governor oc- 
casionally rode, to visit the old chieftain. In one of these visits 
he found Neamathla seated in his wigwam, in the centre of 
the village, surrounded by his warriors. The governor had 
brought him some liquor as a present, but it mounted quickly 
into his brain, and rendered him quite boastful and beUigerent. 
The theme ever uppermost in liis mind, was the treaty with 
the whites. "It was true," he said, "the red men had made 
such a treaty, but the white men had not acted up to it. The 
red men had received none of the money and the cattle that 
had been promised them : the treaty, therefore, was at an end, 
and they did not intend to be bound by it. " 

Governor Duval calmly represented to him that the time 
appointed in the treaty for the payment and delivery of the 
money and the cattle had not yet arrived. This the old chief- 
tain knew full well, but he chose, for the moment, to pretend 
ignorance. He kept on drinking and talking, his voice grow- 
ing louder and louder, until it resounded aU over the village. 
He held in his hand a long knife, with which he had been 
raspmg tobacco; this he kept flourishing backward and for- 
ward, as* he talked, by way of giving effect to his words, 
brandishing it at times within an inch of the governor's throat. 
He concluded his tirade by repeating, that the country be- 
longed to the red men, and that sooner than give it up, his 
bones and the bones of his people should bleach upon its sod. 

Duval saw that the object of all this bluster was to see 
whether he could be intimidated. He kept his eye, therefore, 
fixed steadily on the chief, and the moment he concluded with 
his menace, seized him by the bosom of his hunting-shirt, and 
clinching his other fist : 

"I've heard what you have said," replied he, "You have 
made a treaty, yet you say your bones shall bleach before 
you comply with it. As sure as there is a sun in heaven, your 
bones shall bleach, if you do not fulfil every article of that 
treaty ! I'U let you know that I scca. first here, and will see that 
you ^o your duty !" 

Upon this, the old chieftain threw himself back, burst into a 
fit of laughing, and declared that all he had said was in joke. 
The governor suspected, however, that there was a grave 
meaning at the bottom of this jocularity. 

For two months, everytliing went on smoothly : the Indians 
repaired daily to the log-cabin palace of the governor, at Talla- 



152 ^'^-E" CRAYON PAPERS. 

hassce, and appeared perfectly contented. All at once they 
ceased their visits, and for three or four days not one was to 
be seen. Governor Duval began to apprehend that some mis- 
chief was brewing. On the evening of the fourth day a chief 
named Yellow-Hair, a resolute, intelligent felloAv, who had 
alwaj^s evinced an attachment for the governor, entered his 
cabin about twelve o'clock at night, and informed him that 
between four and five hundred warriors, painted and deco- 
rated, were assembled to hold a secret war-talk at Neamathla's 
town. He had slipped off to give intelligence, at the risk of his 
hf e, and hastened back lest his absence should be discovered. 

Governor Duval passed an ansious night after this inteUi- 
gence. He knew the talent and the daring character of Nea- 
matlila; he recollected the threats he had thrown out; he 
reflected that about eighty white families were scattered wide- 
ly apart, over a great extent of country, and might be swept 
away at once, should the Indians, as he feared, determine to 
clear the country. That he did not exaggerate the dangers of 
the case, has been proved by the horrid scenes of Indian war- 
fare that have since desolated that devoted region. After a 
night of sleepless cogitation, Duval determined on a measure 
suited to his prompt and resolute character. Kno\\ang the 
admiration of the savages for personal courage, he determined, 
by a sudden surprise, to endeavor to overawe and check them. 
It was hazarding much ; but where so many lives were in jeop' 
ardy, he felt bound to incur the hazard. 

Accordingly, on the next morning, he set off on horseback, 
attended merely by a white man, who had been reared among 
the Seminoles, and understood their language and manners, 
and who acted as interpreter. They struck into an Indian 
"trail," leading to Neamathla's village. After proceeding 
about half a mile, Governor Duval infonned the interpreter 
of the object of his expedition. The latter, though a bold man, 
paused and remonstrated. The Indians among whom they 
were going were among the most desperate and discontented 
of the nation. Many of them were veteran warriors, impover- 
ished and exasperated by defeat, and ready to set their lives at 
any hazard. He said that if they were holding a war council, 
it must be with desperate intent, and it would be certain death 
to intrude among them. 

Duval made light of his apprehensions: he said he was 
perfectly well acquainted with the Indian character, and 
should certainly proceed. So saymg, he rode on. When 



THE CONHPIRACT OF NEAMATELA. 153 

within half a mile of the village, the interpreter addressed him 
again, in sucli a tremulous tone that Duval turned and looked 
him in the face. He Avas deadly pale, and once more ui'ged the 
governor to return, as they would certahaly be massacred if 
they proceeded. 

Duval repeated his determination to go on, but advised the 
other to return, lest his pale face should betray fear to the 
Indians, and they might take advantage of it. The interpreter 
rephed that he would rather die a thousand deaths than have 
it said he had deserted his leader when in peril, 

Duval then told him he most translate faithfully aU he 
shoiild say to the Indians, without softening a word. The 
interpreter promised faithf uUy to do so, addhig that he well 
knew, when they were once in the town, nothing but boldness 
could save them. 

They now rode into the village, and advanced to the council- 
house- This was rather a group of four houses, for min g a 
scxuare, in the centre of which was a great council-fire. The 
houses were open in front, toward the fire, and closed in the 
rear. At each corner of the square there was an mterval 
between the houses, for ingress and egress. In these houses 
sat the old men and the chiefs ; the young men were gathered 
round the fire. Neamathla presided at the coimcil, elevated on 
a higher seat than the rest. 

Governor Duval entered by one of the corner intervals, and 
rode boldly into the centre of the square. The young men 
made way for him ; an old man who was speaking, paused in 
the midst of his harangue. In an instant thirty or forty rifles 
were cocked and levelled. Never had Duval heard so loud a 
click of triggers : it seemed to strike to liis heart. He gave one 
glance at the Indians, and turned off with an air of contempt. 
He did not dare, he says, to look again, lest it might affect 
his nerves; and on the firmness of his nerves everything 
depended. 

The chief threw up his arm. The rifles were lowered. Duval 
breathed more freely : he felt disposed to leap from his hoi'se, 
but restrained himself, and dismounted leisurely. He then 
walked deliberately up to Neamathla, and demanded, in an 
authoritative tone, wjiat were his motives for holding that 
council. The moment he made this demand, the orator sat 
down. The chief made no reply, but hung his head in appar- 
ent confusion. After a moment's pause, Duval proceeded : 

"lamvrell aware of the meaning of this war-council-, and 



154 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

deem it my duty to warn you against prosecuting tby schemes 
you have been devising. If a single haii* of a white man in 
this country falls to the ground, I will hang you and your 
chiefs on the trees around your council-house ! You cannot 
pretend to withstand the power of the white men. You are in 
the palm of the hand of your Great Father at Washington, 
who can crush you hke an egg-shell. You may kill me: I am 
but one man ; but recoUect, white men are numerous as the 
leaves on the trees. Eemember the fate of your warriors 
whose bones are whitening in battle-fields. Eemember your 
wives and children who perished in swamps. Do you want to 
provoke more hostilities? Another war with the white men, 
and there will not be a Seminole left to tell the story of his 
I'ace." 

Seeing the effect of his words, he concluded by appointing a 
day for the Indians to meet him at St. Marks, and give an 
account of their conduct. He then rode off, without giving 
them time to recover from then* sin-prise. That night he rode 
forty miles to Apalachicola Eiver, to the tribe of the same 
name, who were in feud with the Seminoles. They promptly 
put two hundred and fifty warriors at his disposal, whom he 
ordered to be at St. Marks at the appointed day. He sent out 
runners, also, and mustered one hundred of the mihtiato repair 
to the same place, together with a number of regulars from the 
army. All liis arrangements were successful. 

Having taken these measures, he returned to Tallahassee, to 
the neighborhood of the conspirators, to show them that he was 
not afraid. Here he ascertained, through Yellow-Hair, that 
nine towns were disaffected, and had been concerned in the 
conspiracy. He was careful to inform himself, from the same 
source, of the names of the warriors in each of those towns who 
were most popular, though poor, and destitute of rank and 
command. 

When the appointed day was at hand for the meeting at St. 
Marks, Governor Duval set off with Neamathla, who was at 
the head of eight or nine hundred warriors, but who feared to 
venture into the fort without him. As they entered the fort, 
and saw troops and militia drawn up there, and a force of Apa- 
lachicola soldio-rs stationed on the opposite bank of the river, 
they thought they were betrayed, and were about to fly ; but 
Duval assured them they were safe, and that when the talk 
was over, they might go home unmolested. 

A grand talk was now held, in which the late conspiracy was 



LETTER FROM GRANADA. I55 

discussed. As he had foreseen, Neamathla and the other old 
chiefs threw all the blame upon the young men. " Well," 
rephed Duval, "with us white men, when we find a man 
incompetent to govern those under him, we put him down, and 
appoint another in his place. Now, as you all acknowledge 
you cannot manage your young men, we must put chiefs over 
them who can." 

So saying, he deposed Neamathla first ; appointing another 
in his place ; and so on with all the rest : taking care to sub- 
stitute the warriors who had been pointed out to him as poor 
and popular ; putting medals round their necks, and investiag 
them with great ceremony. The Indians were sm^prised and 
dehghted at finding the appointments fall upon the very men 
they would themselves have chosen, and hailed them with 
acclamations. The warriors thus unexpectedly elevated to 
command, and clothed with dignity, were secured to the inter- 
ests of the gov-ernor, and sure to keep an eye on the disaffected. 
As to the great chief Neamathla, he left the country in disgust, 
and returned to the Creek nation, who elected him a cliief of 
one of their towns. Thus by the resolute spirit and prompt 
sagacity of one man, a dangerous conspiracy was completely 
defeated. Governor Duval was afterward enabled to remove 
the whole nation, through his own personal influence, without 
the aid of the general government. 



To the Editor of the KnicTcerhocker. 

Sir: The following letter was scribbled to a friend during 
my sojourn in the Alhambra, in 1828. As it presents scenes 
and impressions noted down at the time, I venture to offer it 
for the consideration of your readers. Should it prove accep- 
table, I may from time to time give other letters, written in the 
course of my various ramblings, and which have been kindly 
restored to me by my friends. Yours, G. C. 

LETTER FROM GRANADA. 

Geianada, 182R. 

My Dear : Religious festivals furnish, in all Catholic 

counti-ieSj occasions of popular pageant and recreation ; but in 
none more so than in Spain, where the great end of religion 



156 I'll^- ('RATON PAPERS. 

seems to be to create holidays and ceremonials. For two days 
past, Granada has been in a gay turmoil with the great annual 
fete of Corpus Christi. This most eventful and romantic city, 
as you well know, has ever been the rallying point of a moun- 
tainous region, studded with small towns and villages. Hither, 
during the time that Granada was the splendid capital of a 
Moorish kingdom, the Moslem youth repaired from all points, 
to participate in chivalrous festivities ; and hither the Spanish 
populace at the present day throng from all parts of the sm'- 
rounding country to attend the festivals of the church. 

As the populace hke to enjoy things from the very com- 
mencement, the stir of Corpus Christi began in Granada on the 
preceding evening. Before dark the gates of the city wei'e 
thronged with the picturesque peasantry from the mountain 
villages, and the brown laborers from the Vega, or vast fertile 
plain. As the evenmg advanced, the Vivarambla thickened 
and swarmed with a motley multitude. This is the great 
square in the centre of the city, famous for tilts and tourneys 
during the time of Moorish domination, and incessantly men- 
tioned in all the old Moorish ballads of love and chivalry. For 
several days the hammer had resounded throughout this 
square. A gallery of wood had been erected all round it, form- 
ing a covei'cd way for the grand procession of Corpus Christi. 
On this eve of the ceremonial this gallery was a fashionable 
promenade. It was brilliantly illuminated, bands of music 
were stationed in balconies on the four sides of the square, and 
aU the fashion and beauty of Gi-anada, and all its population 
that could boast a little finery of apparel, together with the 
majos and majas, the beavix and belles of the villages, in their 
gay Andalusian costumes, thronged this covered walk, anxious 
to see and to be seen. As to the sturdy peasantry of the Vega, ? 
and such of the mountaineers as did not pretend to display, but' 
were content with hearty enjoyment, they swarmed in the 
centre of the square ; some in groups listening to the guitar and 
the traditional ballad; some dancing their favorite bolero; 
some seated on the ground making a merry though frugal 
supper; and some stretched out for their night's repose. 

The gay crowd of the gallery dispersed gradual ly toward 
midnight; but the centre of the square resembled the biv^ouac 
of an army ; for hmidreds of the peasantry, men, women, and 
children, passed the night there, sleeping soundly on the hare 
earth, under the open canopy of heaven. A summer's night 
requires no shelter in this genial climate; and ^vith a gi-eat 



LETTER FROM GRANADA. 157 

part of the hardj^ peasantry of Spain, a bed is a superfluity 
which many of them never enjoy, and which they affect to 
despise. The common Spaniard spreads out his manta, or 
mule-cloth, or wrajjs himself in his cloak, and lies on the 
ground, with his saddle for a piUow, 

The next morning I revisited the square at sunrise. It was 
still strewed with gi'oui)s of sleepers; some were reposing from 
the dance and revel of the evening ; others had left their vil- 
lages after work, on the preceding day, and having trudged on 
foot the greater part of the night, were taking a sound sleep to 
fi-eshen them for the festivities of the day. Numbers from the 
mountains, and the remote villages of the plain, who had set 
out in the night, continued to arrive, with their wives and 
cliildren. All were in high spirits; greeting each other, and 
exchanging jokes and pleasantries. The gay tumult thickened 
as the day advanced. Now came pouring in at the city gates, 
and parading thi"ough the streets, the deputations from the 
various villages, destmed to swell the grand procession. These 
village deputations were headed by their priests, bearing their 
respective crosses and banners, and images of the Blessed Vii-- 
gin and of patron saints; all which were matters of great 
livalship and jealousy among the peasantry. It was lilce the 
chivah'ous gatherings of ancient days, when each town and 
village sent its chiefs, and warriors, and standards, to defend 
the capital, or grace its festivities. 

At length, all these various detachments congregated into 
one grand pageant, which slowly paraded round the Viva- 
rambla, and through the principal streets, where every -vvindow 
and balcony was hung with tapestry. In this procession were 
all the rehgious orders, the civil and mihtary authorities, and 
the chief people of the parishes and villages; every church and 
convent had contributed its banners, its images, its rehques, 
and poured forth its wealth, for the occasion. In the centre 
of the procession walked the archbishop, under a damask can- 
opy, and siuToimded by inferior dignitaries and their depen- 
dants. The whole moved to the swell and cadence of numerous 
Lands of music, and, passing through the midst of a countless 
yet silent multitude, jn-oceeded onward ^ the cathedral. 

I could not but be struck with the changes of times and cus- 
toms, as I saw this monldsh pageant passing through tbe 
Vivarambla, the ancient seat of modem pomp and chivalry. 
Tlie contrast v/as indeed forced upon the mind by tbe decora- 
tions of the square. The whole front of the wooden iirallery 



158 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

erected for the procession, extending several hundred feet, was 
faced Avith canvas, on which some humble though patriotic 
artist had painted, by contract, a series of the principal scenes 
and exploits of the conquest, as recorded in chronicle and 
romance. It is thus the romantic legends of Granada mingle 
themselves with everything, and are kept fresh in the public 
mind. Another great festival at Granada, answering in its 
popular character to our Fourth of July, is El Dia de la Toma ; 
" The Day of the Capture;" that is to say, the anniversary of 
the capture of the city by Ferdinand and Isabella. On this 
day aU Granada is abandoned to revelry. The alarm beU on 
the Terre de la Campana, or watch-tower of the Alhambra, 
keeps up a clangor from morn tUl night; and happy is the 
damsel that can ring that beU ; it is a charm to secure a hus 
band ua the course of the year. 

The sound, which can be heard over the whole Vega, and to 
the top of the mountains, summons the peasantry to the fes- 
tivities. Throughout the day the Alhambra is thrown open to 
the public. The halls and courts of the Moorish monarchs 
resound with the guitar and Castanet, and gay groups, in the 
fanciful dresses of Andalusia, perform those popular dances 
Aviiich they have inherited from the Moors. 

In the meantune a grand pi'ocession moves through the city. 
The banner of Ferdinand and Isabella, that precious reUque of 
the conquest, is brought forth from its depository, and borne 
by the Alferez Mayor, or gi-and standard-bearer, through the 
principal streets. The portable camp-altar, wliich was carried 
about with them in all their campaigns, is transported into the 
chapel royal, and placed before their sepulchre, where their 
effigies lie in monumental marble. The procession fills the 
chapel. High mass is performed in memory of the conquest; 
and at a certain part of the ceremony the Alferez Mayor puts 
on his hat, and waves the standard above the tomb of the con- 
querors. 

A more whimsical memorial of the conquest is exhibited on 
the same evening at the theatre, where a popidar di-ama is 
performed, entitled Ave Maria. This turns on the oft-sung 
achievement of Hernando del Pulgar, surnamed El de las 
Hazanas, " He of the Exploits," the favorite hero of the popu- 
lace of Granada. 

During the time that Ferdinand and Isabella besieged the 
city, the young Moorish and Spanish knights vied with each 
other in extravagant bravados. On one occasion Hernando del 



LETTER FROM GRANADA. I59 

Pulgar, at the head of a handful of youthful followers, made a 
dash into Granada at the dead of night, nailed the inscription 
of Ave Maria, with his dagger, to the gate of the principal 
mosque, as a token of having consecrated it to the virgin, and 
effected his retreat in safety. 

While the Moorish cavaHers admired this daring exploit, 
they felt bound to revenge it. On the following day, therefore, 
Tarfe, one of the stoutest of the infidel warriors, paraded in 
fi'ont of the Christian army, dragging the sacred inscription of 
Ave Maria at his horse's tail. The cause of the Virgin was 
eagerly vindicated by Garcilaso de la "Vega, who slew the Moor 
in single combat, and elevated the inscription of Ave Maria, in 
devotion and triiunph, at the end of his lance. 

The drama founded on this exploit is prodigiously popular 
with the common people. Although it has been acted time out 
of mind, and the people have seen it repeatedly, it never fails 
to draw crowds, and so completely to engross the feelings of 
the audience, as to have almost the effect on them of reahty. 
When their favorite Pulgar strides about with many a mouthy 
speech, in the very midst of the Moorish capital, he is cheered 
with enthusiastic braves ;• and when he naQs the tablet of Ave 
Maria to the door of the mosque, the theatre absolutely shakes 
with shouts and thimders of applause. On the other hand, the 
actors who play the part of the Moors, have to bear the brunt 
of the temporary indignation of their auditors ; and when the 
infidel Tarfe plucks down the tablet to tie it to his horse's tail, 
many of the people absolutely rise in fury, and are ready to 
jump upon the stage to revenge this insult to the Virgia. 

Beside this amiual festival at the capital, almost every vil- 
lage of the Vega and the mountains has its own anniversary, 
wherein its own dehverance from the Moorish yoke is cele- 
brated with uncouth ceremony and rustic pomp. 

On these occasions a kind of resurrection takes place of 
ancient Spanish dresses and armor ; great two-handed swords, 
ponderous arquebuses, with match-locks, and other weapons 
and accoutrements, once the equipments of the village chiv- 
alry, and treasured up from generation to generation, since 
the time of the conquest. In these hereditary and historical 
garbs some of the most sturdy of the villagers array themselves 
as champions of the faith, while its ancient opponents are rep- 
resented by another band of villagers, dressed up as Moorish 
warriors. A tent is pitched in the pubHc square of the village, 
within which is an altar, and an image of the Virgin. The 



160 _TUE CRAYON PAPERS. 

Spanish warriors approach to perform their devotions at this 
shrine, but are opposed by the infidel Moslems, who surround 
the tent. A mock fight succeeds, in the course of which the 
combatants sometimes forget that they are inerely playing a 
part, and exchange dry blows of grievous weight ; the fictitious 
Moors especially are apt to bear away pretty evident marks of 
the pious zeal of their antagonists. The contest, however, in- 
variably terminates in favor of the good cause. The Moors 
are defeated and taken prisoners. The image of the Vu'gin, 
rescued from thraldom, is elevated in triuinph ; and a grand 
procession succeeds, in which the Spanish conquerors figure 
with great vain-glory and applause, and their captives are led 
in chains, to the infinite delight and edification of the populace. 
These annual festivals are the dehght of the villagers, who ex- 
pend considerable sums in their celebration. In some villages 
they are occasionally obliged to suspend them for want of 
funds ; but when times grow better, or they have been enabled 
to save money for the purpose, they are revived with all their 
grotesque pomp and extravagance. 

To recur to the exploit of Hernando del Piilgar, However 
extravagant and fabulous it may seem, it is authenticated by 
certain traditional usages, and shows the vain-glorious daring 
that prevailed between the youthful warriors of both nations, 
in that romantic war. The mosque thus consecrated to the 
Virgin was made the cathedral of the city after the conquest ; 
and there is a painting of the Virgin beside the royal chapel, 
wliich was put there by Hernando del Pulgar. The lineal rep- 
resentative of the hare-brained cavalier has the right to this 
day to enter the church, on certain occasions, on horseback, to 
sit witliin the choir, and to put on his hat at the elevation of 
the host, though these privileges have often been obstinately 
contested by the clergy. 

The present lineal representative of Hernando del Pulgar is 
the Marquis de Salar, whom I have met occasionally in society. 
He is a young man of agreeable appearance and manners, and 
his bright black eyes would give indication of liis inheriting 
the fire of his ancestor. When the paintings were put up in 
the Vivarambla, illustrating the scenes of the conquest, an old 
gray -headed family servant of the Pulgars was so delighted 
with those which related to the family hero, that he absolutely 
shed tears, and hurrying home to the Marquis, urged him to 
hasten and behold the family trophies. The sudden zeal of the 
old man provoked the mirth of his young master ; upon which 



ABDEBAUMAK 161 

turning to the brother of the Marquis, with that freedom 
allowed to family servants in Spain, "Come, SeHor," cried he, 
"you are more grave and considerate than youi* brother; 
come and see your ancestor in all his glory !" 



Within two or three years after the above letter was written, 
the Marquis de Salar was married to the beautiful daughter of 

the Count , mentioned by the author in his anecdotes of 

the Alhambra. The match was very agreeable to aU parties, 
and the nuptials were celebrated with great festivity. 



ABDERAHMAN: 

FOUNDER OF THE DYNASTY OF THE OMMTADES IN SPAIN". 

To the Editor of the Knickerbocker. 

Sir : In the following memoir I have conformed to the facts 
furnished by the Arabian chroniclers, as cited by the learned 
Conde. The story of Abderahman has almost the charm of 
romance ; but it derives a higher interest from the heroic yet 
gentle virtues which it illustrates, and from recording the for- 
times of the founder of that splendid dynasty, which shed such 
a lustre upon Spain during the domination of the Arabs. Ab- 
derahman may, in some respects, be compared to our own 
Washington. He achieved the independence of Moslem Spain, 
freeing it from subjection to the cahphs ; he united its jarring 
parts under one government; he ruled over it with justice, 
clemency, and moderation ; his whole course of conduct was 
distinguished by wonderful forbearance and magnanimity ; and 
when he died he left a legacy of good e:cample and good coun- 
sel to his successors. G. C. 



"Blessed be God!" exclaims an Arabian historian: "in His 
hands alone is tne dcv^dny of princes. He overthrows the 
mighty, and hiunbles the haughty to the dust ; and he raises 
up the persecuted and afflicted from the very depths of de- 
spair!" 

The illustrious house of Omeya had swayed the sceptre at 
Damascus for nearly a century, when a rebellion broke out, 



IQ2 2'i/^ CRAYON PAPERS. 

headed by Aboul Abbas Safah, who aspired to the throne of 

the caliphs, as being descended from Abbas, the uncle of the 
prophet. The rebeUion was successful. Marvau, the last caliph 
of the house of Omeya, was defeated and slain. A general 
proscription of the Omniiades took place. Many of them fell 
in battle ; many were treacherously slain, in places where they 
had taken refuge ; above seventy most noble and distinguished 
were murdered at a banquet to which they had been invited, 
and their dead bodies covered with cloths, and made to serve 
as tables for the horrible festivity. Others were driven forth, 
forlorn and desolate wanderers in various parts of the earth, 
and pursued with relentless hatred ; for it was the determina- 
tion of the usurper that not one of the persec cited family should 
escape. Aboul Abbas took possession of three stately palaces, 
and dehcious gardens, and founded the powerful dynasty of the 
Abbassides, which, for several centuries, maintained dominion 
in the east. 

' ' Blessed be G od !" again exclaims the Arabian historian ; " it 
was written in His eternal decrees that, notwitlistanding the 
fury of the Abbassides, the noble stock of Omeya should not be 
destroyed. One fruitful branch remained to flourish with glory 
and greatness ua another land." 

When the sanguinary proscription of the Ommiades took 
place, two young princes of that line, brothers, by the names 
of Solyman and Abderahman, were spared for a time. Their 
personal graces, noble demeanor, and winning affabihty, had 
made them many friends, while their extreme youth rendered 
them objects of but httle dread to the usurper. Their safety, 
however, was but transient. In a little while the suspicions of 
Aboul Abbas were aroused. The unfortunate Solyman fell be- 
neath the scimitar of the executioner. His brother Abderahman 
was warned of his danger in time. Several of his friends has- 
tened to him, bringing him jewels, a disguise, and a fleet horse, 
"The emissaries of the caliph," said they, "are in search of 
tliee ; thy brother lies weltering in his blood ; fly to the desert ! 
There is no safety for thee in the habitations of man!" 

Abderahman took the jewels, clad himself in the disguise, 
and mounting his steed, fled for his life. As he passed, a lonely 
fugitive, by the palaces of his ancestors, in which his family 
had long held sway, their very walls seemed disposed to betray 
him, as they echoed the swift clattering of his steed. 

Abandoning his native country, Syria, where he was liable 
at each moment to be recognized and taken, he took refuge 



ABDERAEMAN. 1G3 

among the Bedouin Arabs, a half -savage race of shepherds. His 
youth, his inborn majesty and grace, and the sweetness and 
affability that shone forth in his azure eyes, won the hearts of 
these wandering men. He was but twenty years of age, and 
had been reared in the soft luxury of a palace; but he was lali 
and vigorous, and in a little while hardened himself so com- 
pletely to the rustic life of the fields that it seemed as Ihougli 
he had passed all his days in the rude simplicity of a shepherd's 
cabin. 

His enemies, however, were upon his traces, and gave him 
but Uttle rest. By day he scoured the plain with the Bedouins, 
hearing in every blast the sound of pursuit, and fancying in 
every distant cloud of dust a troop of the caliph's horsemen. 
His night was passed in broken sleep and frequent watcliings, 
and at the earhest dawn be was the first to put the bridle to his 
steed. 

Wearied by these perpetual alarms, he bade farewell to his 
friendly Bedouins, and leaving Egypt behind, sought a safer 
refuge in Western Africa. The province of Barea was at that 
time governed by Aben Habib, who had risen to rank and for- 
tune mider the fostering favor of the Ommiades. "Surely," 
thought the unhappy prince, "I shall receive kindness and 
protection from this man ; he will rejoice to show his gratitude 
fox- the benefits showered upon him by my kindred." 

Abdorahman was young, and as yet kiiow little of mankind. 
None are so hostile to the victim of poAv^er as those whom he 
has befriended. They fear being suspected of gratitude by his 
persecutors, and involved in his misfortunes. 

The unfortunate Abderahman had halted for a few days to i-e- 
pose himself among a horde of Bedouins, who had received him 
with their characteristic hospitality. They would gather round 
him in the evenings, to listen to his conversation, regarding 
with wonder this gently-spoken stranger from the more refined 
country of Egypt. The old men marvelled to find so much 
knowledge and wisdom in such early youth, and the yoxmg 
men, won by his frank and manly carriage, enti'eated him to 
remain among them. 

One night, when all were buried in sleep, they were roused 
by the tramp of horsemen. The Wali Aben Habib, who, like 
all the governors of distant ports, had received orders from the 
caliph to be on the watch for the fugitive prince, had heard 
that a young man, answering the description, had entered the 
province alone, from the frontiers of Egypt, on a steed woi'n 



164 



THE CRAYON PAPERS. 



down by travel. He had immediately sent forth horsemen in 
his pursuit, with orders to bring him to him dead or alive. 
The emissaries of the Wali hnd traced him to his resting-place, 
and demanded of the Arabs whether a young man, a stranger 
from Syria, did not sojourn among their tribe. The Bedouins 
k)iew by the description that the stranger must bo their guest, 
;xud feared some evil was intended him. "Such a youth," 
said they, " h?s indeed sojourned among us; but he has gone, 
with some of our young men, to a distant valley, to hunt tke 
lion." The emissaries inquu-ed the way to the place, and 
hastened on to surprise their expected prey. 

The Bedouins repaired to Abderahman, who was still sleep- 
ing. "If thou hast aught to fear from man in power," said 
they, "arise and fly ; for the horsemen of the Wali are in quest 
of thee ! We have sent them ofE for a time on a wrong errand, 
but they will soon return." 

"Alas! wliither shall I fly!" cried the unhappy prince; "my 
enemies hunt me like the ostrich of the desert. They follow 
me like the wind, and allow me neither safety nor repose !" 

Six of the bravest youths of the tribe stepped forward. "We 
have steeds, "said they, " that can outstrip the wind, and hands 
that can hurl the javelin. We will accompany thee in thy 
flight, and will fight by thy side while life lasts, and we have 
weapons to wield." 

Abderahman embraced them with tears of gratitude. They 
mounted their steeds, and made for the most lonely parts of 
the desert. By the faint light of the stars, they passed through 
dreary wastes, and over hills of sand. The lion roared, and 
the hyena howled unheeded, for they fled from man, more 
cruel and relentless, when in pursuit of blood, than the savage 
beasts of the desert. 

At sunrise they paused to refresh themselves beside a scanty 
well, surrounded by a few palm-trees. One of the young Arabs 
climbed a tree, and looked in every direction, but not a horse- 
man was to be seen. 

"We have outstripped pursuit," said the Bedouins; "wliither 
sliall we conduct thee? Where is thy home and the land of 
thy people?" 

' ' Home have I none !" replied Abderahman, mournfully, ' ' nor 
family, nor kindred! My native land is to me a land of de- 
struction, and my people seek my life !" 

The hearts of the youthful Bedouins were touched with com- 
passion at these words, and they marvelled that one so young 



ABDERAIJMAN. 165 

and gentle should have suffered such great sorrow and perse 
cution. 

Abderahnian sat by the well, and mused for a time. At 
length, breaking silence, " In the midst of Mauritania, "said he, 
"dwells the tribe of Zeneta. My mother was of that tribe; 
and perhaps when her son presents hunself, a persecuted wan- 
derer, at theii^ door, they wiU not turn him from the thresh- 
old." 

"The Zenetes," replied the Bedouins, "are among the 
bravest and most hospitable of the people of Africa. Never 
did the unfortunate seek refuge among them in vain, nor 
was the stranger repulsed from their door." So they mount- 
ea the^T steeds with renewed spiiits, and journeyed with all 
speed to Tahart, the capital of the Zenetes. 

When Abderahman entered the place, followed by his six 
rustic Arabs, all wayworn and travel-stained, his noble and 
majestic demeanor shone through the simple garb of a Bed- 
ouin. A croAvd gathei'ed around him, as he alighted from his 
weary steed. Confiding in the well-known character of the 
tribe, he no longer attempted concealment. 

" You behold before you," said he, "one of the proscribed 
house of Omeya. I am that Abderahman upon whose head a 
price has been set, and who has been driven from land to land, 
I come to you as my kindred. My mother was of your tribe, 
and she told me with her dying breath that in all time of need 
I would find a home and friends among the Zenetes." 

The words of Abderahman went straight to the hearts of his 
hearers. They pitied his j^outh and his great misforiunes, 
while they were charmed by his frankness, and by the manly 
graces of his pereon. The tril>o was of a bold and generous 
spirit, and not to be awed by the frown of power. " E\al be 
upon us and upon our children," said they, "if we deceive 
the trust thou hast placed in us !" 

Then one of the noblest Xeques took Abderahman to his 
house, and treated him as his own child; and the principal 
people of the tribe strove who most should cherish him, and do 
him honor; endeavoi-ing to obliterate by their kindness the 
recollection of his past misfortunes. 

Abderahman had resided some time among the hospitable 
Zenetes, when one day two strangers, of venerable appearance, 
attended by a small retinue, arrived at Tahari. They gave 
themselves out as merchants, and from the simple style in 
which they travelled, excited no attention. In a little while 



366 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

they sought out Abderahman, and, taking him apart: 
"Hearken," said they, "Abderahman, of the royal line of 
Omeya ; we are ambassadors sent on the part of the principal 
Moslems of Spain, to offer thee, not merely an asylum, for that 
thou hast already among these brave Zenetes, but an empire ! 
Spain is a prey to distracting factions, and can no longer exist 
as a dcpendance upon a throne too remote to "watch over its 
welfare. It needs to be independent of Asia and Africa, and 
to be under the goveinmeut of a good prince, who shall reside 
^vitllin it, and devote himself entirely to its prosperity; a 
prince with sufficient title to silence all rival claims, and bring 
the warring paitics into unity and peace; and at the same 
time with sufficient ability and virtue to insure the welfare of 
his dominions. For this purpose the eyes of all the honorable 
leaders in Spain have been turned to thee, as a descendant of 
the royal line of Omeya, and an offset from the same stock as 
our holy prophet. They have heard of thy virtues, and of thy 
admirable constancy under misfortunes; and invite thee to 
accept the sovereignty of one of the noblest countries in the 
world. Thou wilt have some difficulties to encounter from 
hostile men ; but thou wilt have on thy side the bravest cap. 
tains that have signalized themselves in the conquest of the 
unbelievers." 

The ambassadors ceased, and Abderahman remained for a 
time lost in wonder and admii-ation. "God is great!" ex- 
claimed he, at length ; ' ' there is but one God, who is God, and 
Mahomet is his prophet! Illustrious ambassadors, you have 
put new life into my soul, for you have siiown me something 
to live for. In the few years that I have lived, troubles and 
sorrows have been heaped upon my head, and I have become 
inured to hardships and alarms. Since it is the wish of the 
valiant Moslems of Spain, I am willing to become their leader 
and defender, and devote myself to their cause, be it happy or 
disastrous." 

The ambassadors now cautioned him to be silent as to their 
errand, and to depart secretly for Spain. "The sea-board of 
Africa." said they, " swarms with your enemies, and a power- 
ful faction in Spam would intercept you on landing, did they 
know your name and rank, and the object of your coming. " 

But Abderahman rephed: "I have been cherished in adver- 
sity by these brave Zenetes; I have been protected and hon- 
ored by them, when a price was set upon my head, and to 
harbor me was gi'cat peril. How can I keep my good fortune 



ABDFMAHMAN. 167 

from my benefactors, and desert tbeir hospitable roofs in 
silence? He is unworthy of friendship, who withholds confi- 
dence from his friend." 

(jharmed with the generosity of his feelings, the ambassadors 
made no opposition to his wishes. The Zenetes proved them- 
selves worthy of his confidence. They hailed with joy the 
groat change in his fortunes. The warriors and the young 
men pressed forward to follow, and aid them with horse and 
weapon; "for the honor of a noble house and family," said 
they, "can be maintained only by lances and horsemen. " In 
a few days he set forth, with the ambassadors, at the head o'i 
nearly a thousand horsemen, skilled in war, and exercised in 
the desei't, and a large body of infantry, armed with lances. 
The venerable Xeque, ^vith whom he had resided, blessed him, 
and shed tears over him at parting, as though he had been his 
own child ; and when the youth passed over the threshold, the 
house was filled with lamentations. 

Abderahman reached Spain in safety, and landed at Ahnane- 
car, with his httle band of warlike Zenetes. Spain was at that 
time in a state of groat confusion. Upward of forty years 
had elapsed since the conquest. The civil wars in Syria and 
Egypt had isrevented the main govennnent at Damascus from 
exercising contiol over this disttint and recently acquired ter- 
ritory. Every Moslem cominander considered the town or 
province committed to his charge, an absolute property; and 
accordingly exercised the most arbitrary extortions. These 
excesses at length became insupportable, and, at a convocation 
of many of the principal leaders, it was determined, as a means 
to end these dissensions, to unite all the Moslem provinces of 
Spain under one Emir, or General Governor. Yusuf el Fehri, 
an ancient man, of honorable lineage, was chosen for this 
station. He began his reign wdth pohcy, and endeavored to 
conciliate all parties; but the distribution of offices soon 
created powerful enemies among the disappointed leaders. A 
civil Avar was the consequence, and Spain was deluged with 
blood. The troops of both parties burned and ravaged and 
laid everytliing waste, to distress their antagonists; the vil- 
lages were abandoned by their inhabitants, who fled to the 
cities for refuge ; and flourishing towns disappeared from the 
face of the earth, or remained mere heaps of rubbish and 
ashes. At the time of the landing of Abderahman in Spain, the 
old Emir Yusuf had obtained a signal \actory. He had caii- 
tured Saragossa, in wliich was Ameer bon Auiru, his prmcipo] 



]08 THE OR A VOX J'APKh'.'^. 

enemy, together with his son and secretary. Loading his pri. 
sonei'S with chains, and putting them on camels, he set out in 

iunipli for Cordova, considering himself secure in the abso- 
lute domination of Spain. 

He had halted one day in a valley called Wadarambla, and 
was I'eposing with his family in his pavilion, while his people 
and the prisoners made a repast in the open air. In the midst 
of his repose, his confidential adherent and general, the Wah 
Samacl, galloped into the camp covered Avith dust, and ex- 
hausted with fatigue. He brought tidings of the arrival of 
Abderahman, and that the whole sea-board was flocking to his 
standard. Messenger after messeiiger came hurrying into the 
camp, confirming the fearful tidings, and adding that this 
descendant of the Omeyas had secretly been invited to Spain 
l)y Amru and his followers. Yusuf Avaited not to ascertain 
the truth of this accusation. Giving way to a transport of 
fury, he ordered that Anu-u, his son and secretary, should 
be cut to pieces. His commands were instantly executed. 
"And this cruelty," says the Arabian chronicler, "lost liim 
the favor of Allah; for from that time, success deserted his 
standard." 

Abderahman had indeed been hailed with joy on his landing 
in Spain. The old people hoped to find tranquillity under the 
sway of one supreme chieftain, descended from their ancient 
caliphs ; the young men were rejoiced to have a youthful war- 
I'ior to lead them on to victories ; and the populace, charmed 
with his freshness and manly beauty, his majestic yet gracious 
and affable demeanor, shouted : ' ' Long live Abderahman ben 
Moavia Meramamolin of Spain !" 

In a few days the youthful sovereign saw himself at the 
head of more than twenty thousand men, from the neighbor- 
hood of Elvira, Almeria, Malaga, Xeres, and Sidonia. Fair 
ScAalle threw open its gates at his approach, and celebrated his 
arrival with public rejoicings. He continued his march into 
the country, vanquished one of the sons of Yusuf before the 
pates of Cordova, and obliged him to take refuge within i<^^ 
walls, where he held him in close siege. Hearing, however, of 
tne approach of Yusuf, the father, with a powerful army, lie 
divided his forces, and leaving ten thousand men to press the 
siege, he hastened with the other ten to meet the coming foe. 

Yusuf had indeed mustered a formidable force, from the 
east and south of Spain, and accompanied by his veteran gene- 
lai, Samael, came with confident boasting to drive this iu- 



ABBERAIIMAK 1G9 

tn.der from the land. His confidence increased on beholding 
the small army of Abderahman. Tui-ning to Samael, he re- 
poiitcd, with a scornful sneer, a verse from an Arabian poetess, 
which says : 

"How hard is our lot! We come, a thirsty multitude, and 
lo ! but this cup of water to share among us !" 

There was indeed a fearfid odds. On the one side were two 
veteran generals, grown gi'ay in victory, ^Adth a mighty host 
of warriors, seasoned in the wars of Spain. On the other side 
T-as a mere youth, scarce attained to manhood, with a hasty 
levy of half-disciphned troops; bu?t the youth was a prince, 
flushed "wath hope, and aspiring after fame and empire; and 
surrounded by a devoted band oi' warriors from Africa, whose 
example infused desperate zeal into the little army. 

The encounter took place at daybreak. The impetuous valor 
of the Zenetes carried everything before it. The cavah-}* oJ 
Yusuf was broken, and diiven back upon the infantry, and 
before noon the whole host was put to headlong flight. Yusuf 
and Samael were borne along in the torrent of the fugitives, 
ragiug and storming, and making ineffectual efforts to rally 
them. They were separated widely in the confusion of the 
flight, one taking refuge in the Algarves, the other in the 
kingdom of Murcia. They afterward rallied, reunited their 
forces, and made another despeiate stand near Almunecar. 
The battle was obstinate and bloody, but they were again 
defeated, and driven, with a handful of followers, to take 
refuge in the rugged mountains adjacent to Elvira. 

Tlie spirit of the veteran Samael gave way before these fear- 
ful reverses. "In vain, O Yusuf!" said he, "do we contend 
with the prosperous star of this youthful conqueror: the will 
of Allah be done ! Let us submit to our fate, and sue for favor- 
able terms, while we have yet the means of capitulation." 

It was a hard trial for the proud spirit of Yusuf, that had 
once aspired to uncontrolled sway; but he was compelled to 
capitulate. Abderahman was as generous as brave. He 
granted the two gray -headed generals the most honorable con- 
ditions, and even took the veteran Samael into favor, employ- 
ing him, as a mark of confidence, to visit the eastern provinces 
of Spain, and restore them to tranquillity. Yusuf, having de- 
livered up Elvira and Granada, and comphed witli other arti- 
cles of his capitulation, was permitted to i-etire to l^Turcia, and 
rejoin his son Muhamad. A general amnesty to all chiefs and 
soldiers who should yield up theii* strongholds, and lay down 



170 THE CliAYON PAPERS. 

their arms, completed the triumph of Abderahman, and brought 
all hearts into obedience. 

Tims terminated tliis severe struggle for the domination of 
Spain; and thus the illustrious family of Omeya, after having 
been cast down and almost exterminated in the East, took new 
root, and sprang forth prosperously in the West. 

Wherever Abderahman api)eared, he was received with rap- 
turous acclamations. As he rode through the cities, the popu- 
lace rent the air with shouts of joy ; the stately palaces were 
crowded with spectators, eager to gain a sight of his graceful 
form and beaming countenance; and when they beheld the 
mingled majesty and benignity of their new monarch, and the 
sweetness and gentleness of his whole conduct, they extolled 
him as something more than mortal ; as a beneficent genius, 
sent for the happiness of Spain. 

In the interval of peace which now succeeded, Abderahman 
occupied himself in promoting the useful and elegant arts, and 
in "'ntroducing into Spain the refinements of the East. Con- 
sid iring the building and ornamenting of cities as among the 
noblest employments of the tranquil hours of princes, he be- 
stowed great pains upon beautifying the city of Cordova and 
its environs. He reconstructed banks and dykes, to keep the 
Cfuadalquiver from overflowing its borders, and. on the vast 
terraces thus formed, he planted delightful gardens. In the 
midst of these, he erected a lofty tower, commanding a view 
of the vast and fruitful valley, enlivened by the windings of the 
river. In this tower he would pass hours of meditation gaz- 
mg on the soft and varied landscape, and innaling the bland 
and balmy airs of that dehghtful region. At such times liis 
thoughts would recur to the past, and the misfortunes of his 
youth; the massacre of his family would rise to view, min-^-lod 
with tender recollections of his native country, from which he 
was exiled. In these melancholy musings he would sit with 
his eyes fixed upon a palm-tree which he had planted in the 
midst of his garden. It is said to have been the first ever 
planted m Spam, and to have been the parent-stock of all the 
palm-trees which grace the southern provinces of the peninsula. 
The heart of Abderahman yearned toward this tree; it was the 
offspring of his native country, and like him, an exile. In one 
of his moods of tenderness, he composed verses upon it, which 
have since become famous throughout the world. The'follow- 
iixf is a rude but literal trnnslation : 

\5eauteous Palm ! thou also wert hither brought a stranerer; 



ABDEIUHMAN. 171 

but thy roots have found a kindly soil, thy head is lifted to 
the sicies, and the sweet aii-s of Algarve fondle and kiss thy 
branches. 

" Tliou hast known, hke me, the storms of adverse fortune. 
Bitter tears woiddst thou shed, couldst thou feel my -vvoes.' 
Repeated griefs have overwhelmed me. With early tears I be- 
dewed the palms on the banks of the Euphrates ; but neither 
tree nor river heeded my sorrows, when driven by cruel fate, 
and the ferocious Ahoul Abbas, from the scenes of my child- 
hood and the sweet objects of my affection. 

' ' To thee no remembrance remains of my beloved country ; 
I, unhappy! can never recall it without tears." 

The genei-osity of Abderahman to his vanquished foes was 
destined to be abused. The veteran Yusuf, in visiting certain 
of the cities which he had surrendered, found himself sur- 
rounded by zealous partisans, i-eady to peiil life in his service. 
The love of command revived in his bosom, and he repented 
the facHity with which he had suffered himseK to be persuaded 
to submission. Flushed with new hopes of success, he caused 
arms to be secretly collected, and deposited in various villages, 
faost zealous in their professions of devotion, and raismg a con- 
siderable body of troops, seized upon the castle of Almodovar, 
The rash rebelhon was short-hved. At the first appearance of 
an army sent by Abderahman, and commanded by Abdolme- 
lee, governor of Seville, the vHlages which had so recently pro- 
fessed loyalty to Yusuf, hastened to declare their attachment 
to the monarch, and to give up the concealed arms. Almodo- 
var was soon retaken, and Yusuf, driven to the environs of 
Lorea, was surrounded by the cavalry of Abdelmelee. The 
veteran endeavored to cut a passage through the enemy, but 
after fighting with desperate fiu'y, and with a force of arm in- 
credible in one of Ms age, he fell beneath blows from weapons 
of all kinds, so that after the battle his body coidd scarcely be 
recognized, so numerous were the wounds. His head was cut 
off and sent to Cordova, where it was placed in an iron cage, 
over the gate of the city. 

Tlio old lion was dead, but his whelps survived. Yusuf had 
(eft three sons, who inherited his warlike spirit, and were eager 
to revenge his death. Collecting a number of the scattered 
adherents of their house, they surprised and seized upon To- 
ledo, during the absence of Temam, its Wall or commander. 
In this old warrior city, built upon a rock, and almost snr- 
rounded by the Tagus. they set up a kind of robber hold 



172 27/7? CPiAYON PAPERS. 

scouring the surrounding country, levying tribute, seizing upon 
horses, and compelhng the peasantry tcr join their standard. 
Every day cavalcades of horses and mules, laden with spoil, 
with flocks of sheep and droves of cattle, came pouring over 
the bridges on either side of the city, and thronging in at the 
gates, the plunder of the surrounding country. Those of the 
inhabitants who were still loyal to Abderahnian dared not lift 
up their voices, for men of the sword bore sway. At length 
one day, when the sons of Yusuf , with their choicest troops, 
were out on a maraud, the watchmen on the towers gave the 
alarm, A troop of scattered horsemen were spurring wildly 
toward the gates. The banners of the sons of Yusuf were 
descried. Two of them spurred, into the city, followed by a 
handful of warriors, covered with confusion and dismay. 
Thc}^ had been encountered and defeated, by the Wali Temam, 
and one of the brothers had been slain. 

The gates were secured in all haste, and the walls were 
scarcely manned, when Temam appeared before them with his 
troops, and summoned the city to surrender. A great internal 
commc^tion ensued between the loyalists and the insurgents; 
the latter, however, had weapons in their hands, and prevailed ; 
and for several days, trusting to the strength of their rock- 
built fortress, they set the Wali at defiance. At length some 
of the loyal inhabitants of Toledo, who knew all its secret and 
subterraneous passages, some of which, if chroniclers may be 
believed, have existed since the days of Hercules, if not of 
Tubal Cain, introduced Temam and a chosen band of his war- 
riors into the very centre of the city, where they suddenly 
appeared as if by magic. A panic seized upon the insurgents. 
Some sought safety in submission, some in concealment, some 
in flight. Casim, one of the sons of Yusuf, escaped in disguise; 
the youngest, unarmed, was taken, and was sent captive to 
the king, accompanied by the head of his brother, who had been 
slnin in battle. 

When Abdorahman beheld the youth laden with chains, he 
remembered his own sufferings in his early days, and had com- 
passion on him ; but, to prevent him from doing further mis- 
chief, he imprisoned him in a tower of the wall of Cordova. 

In the meantime Casim, who had escaped, managed to raise 
another band of warriors. Spain, in all ages a guerilla coun- 
try, prone to partisan warfare and petty maraud, was at that 
time infested by bands of licentious troops, who had sprung 
up in the civil contests; their only object pillage, their only 



ABDERAHMAN. I73 

dependence the sword, and ready to flock to any new and 
desperate standard, that promised the greatest hcense. With 
a ruffian force thus levied, Casim scoured the country, took 
Sidonia by storm, and surprised Seville while in a state 0/ 
unsuspecting security. 

Abdorahman put himself at the head of his faithful Zenetea 
and took the field in person. By the rapidity of his move 
ments, the rebels were defeated, Sidonia and Seville speedilj 
retaken, and Casim was made prisoner. The generosity ot 
Abderahman was agam exhibited toward this unfortunate son 
of Yusuf. He spared his life, and sent him to be confined in a 
tower at Toledo. 

The veteran Samael had taken no part in these insurrections, 
but had attended faithfully to the affairs intrusted to him by 
Abderalunan. The death of his old friend and colleague, 
Yusuf, however, and the subsequent disasters of his family, 
filled him with despondency. Fearing the inconstancy of for- 
tune, and the danger? incident to public employ, he entreated 
the king to be permitted to retire to his house in Seguenza, 
and indulge a privacy and repose suited to his advanced age. 
His prayer was granted. The veteran laid by his arms, bat- 
tered in a thousand conflicts ; hung his sword and lance against 
the wall, and, surrounded by a few friends, gave himself up 
apparently to the sweets of quiet and unambitious leisure. 

Who can count, however, upon the tranquil content of a 
heart nurtured amid the storms of war and ambition ! Under 
the ashes of tliis outward humility were glo^ving the coals of 
faction. In his seemingly philosophical retirement, Samael was 
concerting with his friends new treason against Abderahman. 
His plot was discovered ; his house was suddenly surrounded 
by troops ; and he was conveyed to a tower at Toledo, where, 
in the course of a few months, he died in captivity. ~ 

The magnanimity of Abderahman was again put to the 
proof, by a new insurrection at Toledo. Hixem ben Adra, a 
relation of Yusuf, seized upon the Alcazar, or citadel, slew 
several of the royal adherents of the king, liberated Casim 
from his tower, and, summoning all the banditti of the coun- 
try, soon mustered a force of ten thousand men. Abderahman 
was quickly before the walls of Toledo, with the troops of 
Cordova and his devoted Zenetes. The rebels were brougiit to 
tei'ms, and surrendered the city on promise of general pardon, 
which was extended aven to Hixem and Casim. When the 
chieftains r.aw Hixem and his principal confederates ia the 



574 ^'^^^ CRAYON PAPKRS. 

power of Abderahman, they advised him to put them all to 
death. "A promise given to traitors and rebels," said they, 
"is not binding, -when it is to the interest of the state that it 
should be broken." 

' ' No !" replied Abderahman, ' ' if the safety of my thi'one were 
at stake, I wonld not break my word." So saying, he con- 
firmed the amnesty, and granted Hixem ben Adra a worthless 
life, to be employed in farther treason. 

Scarcely had Abderahman returned from this expedition, 
when a powerful army, sent by the caliph, landed from Africa 
on the coast of the Algarves. The commander, Aly ben 
Mogueth, Emir of Cairvan, elevated a rich banner which he 
had received from the hands of the caliph. Wherever he 
went, he ordered the caliph of the East to be proclaimed by 
sound of trumpet, denouncing Abderahman as a usurper, the 
vagrant member of a family proscribed and execrated in all 
the mosques of the East. 

One of the first to join his standard was Hixem ben Adra, so 
recently pardoned by Abderalunan. Ho seized upon the cita- 
del of Toledo, and repaii-ing to tlie camp of Aly, offered to 
deliver the city into his hands. 

Abderahman, as bold in war as ho was gentle in peace, took 
the field with his Avonted promptness ; overthrew his enemies, • 
with great slaughter, drove some to the sea-coast to regain 
their ships, and others to the mountains. The body of Aly was 
found on the field of battle. Abderahman caused the head to 
be stnick off, and conveyed to Cairvan, whore it was afiixed 
at night to a column in the public square, with this inscription : 
" Thus Abderahman, the descendant of the Omeyas, punishes 
the rash and arrogant." Hixem ben Adra escaped from the 
field of battle, and excited farther troubles, but was eventually 
raptured by Abdelmelee, who ordered his head to be struck 
oflf on the spot, lest he should again be spared, through the 
wonted clemency of Abderahman. 

Notwithstanding these signal triumphs, the reign of Abder- 
ahman was disturbed by farther insurrections, and by another 
descent from Africa, but he was victorious over them all; 
striking the roots of his power deeper and deeper into the land. 
Under his sway, the government of Spain became more reg- 
ular and consolidated, and acquired an independence of the 
empire of the East. The caliph continued to be considered as 
first pontiff and chief of the religion, but he ceased to have any 
temporal power over Spain. 



ABDERAUMAK I75 

Having again an interval of peace, Abclerahman devoted 
himself to the education of his children. Suleiman, the eldest, 
he appointed Wali, or governor, of Toledo; Abdallah, the 
second, was intrusted with the command of Merida ; but the 
third son, Hixem, was the delight of his heart, the son of 
Howara, his favorite sultana, whom he loved throughout life 
with the utmost tenderness. With this youth, who was full 
of promise, he relaxed from the fatigues of government; join- 
ing in liis youthful sports amid the delightful gardens of Cor- 
dova, and teaching him the gentle art of falconry, of which 
the king was so fond that he received the name of the Falcon 
of Coraixi. 

Wliile Abderahman was thus indulging in the gentle pro- 
pensities of his nature, mischief was secretly at work. Muha- 
mad, the youngest son of Yusuf , had been for many years a 
prisoner in the tower of Cordova. Being passive and resigned, 
his keepers relaxed their vigilance, and brought him forth 
from his dungeon. He went groping about, however, in 
broad dayhght, as if stUl in the darkness of his tower. His 
guard.s watched him narrowly, lesc this should be a deception, 
but were at length convinced that the long absence of hght 
had rendered liim blind. They now permitted him to descend 
frequently to the lower chambers of the tower, and to sleep 
there occasionally, during the heats of summer. They even 
allowed him to grope his way to the cistern, in quest of water 
foi" his ablutions. 

A year passed in this way without anything to excite sus- 
picion. During all this time, however, the blindness of Muha- 
mad was entirely a deception ; and he was concerting a plan 
of escape, through the aid of some friends of his father, who 
found means to visit Mm occasionally. One sultry evening 
in midsummer, the guards had gone to bathe in the Guadal- 
quiver, leaving Muhamad alone, in the lower chambers of the 
tower. No sooner were they out of sight and hearing, than ho 
hastened to a window of the stair-case, leading down to Iho 
cistern, lowered himself as far as his arms would reach, end 
dropped without injury to the gi'ound. Plunging into the 
Guadalquiver, he swam across to a thick grove on tho opposite 
side, where his friends were waiting to receive him. Here, 
mounting a horse which they had provided for an event of tho 
kind, he fled across the country, by solitary roads, and made 
good his escape to the mountains of Jaen. 

The guardians of the tower dreaded for some time to mnkc 



176 THE CRATON PAPERS. 

known his flight to Abderahman. When at length it was tol^ 
to him, he exclaimed: "All is the Avork of eternal wisdom; ii 
is intended to teach us that we cannot benefit the Avicked with 
out injuring the good. The flight of that blind man will causf 
much trouble and bloodshed." 

His predictions were verified. Muhamad reared the stan- 
dard of rebellion on the mountains ; the seditious and discon- 
tented of all kinds hastened to join it, together with soldiers 
oi fortune, or rather wandering banditti, and he had soon eis 
tliousand men, well armed, hardy in habits, and desperate 
in character. His l^rother Casim also reappeared about the 
same time in the mountains of Ronda, at the head of a daring 
band that laid all the neighboring valleys under contribution. 

Abderahman summoned his alcaydes from their various mili- 
tary posts, to assist in driving the rebels from their mountain 
fastnesses into the plains. It was a dangerous and protracted 
toO, for the mountains were frightfidly wild and rugged. He 
entered them with a powerful host, driving the rebels from 
height to height and valley to valley, and harassing them by a 
gaUing fire from thousands of cross-bows. At length a deci- 
sive battle took place near the river Guadalcmar, The rebels 
were signally defeated; four thousand fell in action, many 
were drowned in the river, and Muhamad, with a few horse- 
men, escaped to the mountains of the Algarves. Here he was 
hunted by the alcaydes fi*om one desolate retreat to another; 
his few followers grew tired of shai ing the disastrous fortunes 
of a fated man ; one by one deserted him, and he himself de- 
serted the remainder, fearing they might give him up, to pur- 
chase their own pardon. 

Lonely and disguised, he plunged into the depths of the 
forests, or lurked in dens and caverns, like a famished wolf, 
often casting back his thoughts Avith regret to the time of his 
captivity in the gloomy tOAver of Cordova. Hunger at length 
drove him to Alarcon, at the risk of being discovered. Famine 
and misery, however, had so Avasted and changed him, that he 
Avas not recognized. He remained neaiiy a year in Alarcon, 
unnoticed and unknoAvn, yet constantly tormenting hmiself 
with the dread of discovery, and AAdth groundless fears of the 
vengeance of Abderahman. Death at length put an end to his 
wretchedness. 

A milder fate attended his brother Casim. Being defeated 
in the mountains of Murcia, he Avas conducted in chains to 
Cordova. On coming into the presence of Abderahman, his 



ABDEllAHMAN. I77 

once fierce and haughty spirit, broken by distress, gave way ; 
he threw himself on the earth, kissed the dust beneath the feet 
of the king, ani implored his clemency. The benignant heart 
of Abderahman was filled with melancholy, rather than exul- 
tation, at beholding this wreck of the once haughty family of 
Yusuf a suppliant at his feet, and suing for mere existence. 
He thought upon the mutability of fortune, and felt how in- 
secure are all her favors. He raised the unliappy Casim from 
the earth, ordered his irons to be, taken off, and, not content 
with mere forgiveness, treated him with honor, and gave him 
possessions in Seville, where he might live in state conform- 
al)le to the ancient dignity of liis family. Won by tliis great 
and persevering magnanimity, Casin? ever after remained one 
of the most devoted of his subjects. 

All the enemies of Abderahman Avere at lengtli subdued ; ho 
reigned imdisputed sovereign of the Moslems of Spain ; and so 
benign was his government, that every one blessed the revival 
of the illustrious line of Omeya. He was at all thnes accessible 
to the humblest of his subjects: the poor man ever found in 
him a friend, and the oppressed a protector. He improved the 
administration of justice ; estabhshed schools for public instruc- 
tion ; encouraged poets and men of letters, and cultivated the 
sciences. He biiilt mosques in every city that he visited ; in- 
culcated religion by example as well as by precept ; and cele- 
brated all the festivals prescribed by the Koran, with the 
utmost magnificence. 

As a monument of gratitude to God for the prosperity with 
which he had been favored, he undertook to erect a mosque in 
his favorite city of Cordova, that should rival in splendor the 
great mosque of Damascus, and excel the one recently erected 
in Bagdad by the Abbassides, the supplanters of his family. 

It is said that he himself furnished the plan for this fainous 
edifice, and even worked on it, with his own hands, one hour 
in each day, to testify his zeal and humility in the service of 
God, and to animate his workmen. He did not live to see it 
completed, but it was finished according to his plans by his 
son Hixem. When finished, it surpassed the most splendid 
mosques of the east. It was six hundred feet in length, and 
two hundred and fifty in breadth. Within were twenty-eight 
aisles, crossed by nmeteen, supported by a thousand and niKoty- 
three columns of marble. There were nineteen portals, covered 
with plates of bronze of rare workmanship. The princi]>al 
portal was eovered with plates of gold. On the summit of the 



178 THE CRAYON rArJ£ES. 

gi-and cupola were three gilt balls surmounted by a golden 
pomegranate. At night, the mosque was illuminated with 
four thousand seven hundred lamps, and great sinns were 
expended m ambor and aloes, which were burned as perfumes. 
The mosque remains to this day, shorn of its ancient splendor, 
yet still one of the grandest Moslem monuments in Spain. 

Finding himself advancing in years, Abderahman assembled 
in his capital of Cordova the principal governors and com- 
manders of his kingdom, and in presence of them all, with 
great solemnity, nominated his son Hixem as the successor to 
the throne. All present made an oath of fealty to Abderah- 
man during his lii'e, and to Hixem after his death. The prince 
was yomiger than his brothers, Soleiman and Abdallah; but 
he was the son of Howara, the tenderly beloved sultana of 
Abderahman, and her influence, it is said, gained him this 
preference. 

Within a few months afterward, Abderahman fell gi-ievously 
sick at Merida. Finding his end approaching, he summoned 
Hixem to his bedside: " My son," said he, "the angel of death 
is hovering over me ; treasure up, therefore, in thy heart this 
dying counsel, which I give through the great love I bear thee. 
Eemember that all empire is from God, who gives and takes it 
away, according to his pleasure. Since God, through his 
divine goodness, has given us regal power and authority, let 
us do his holy wiU, which is nothing else than to do good to all 
men, and especially to those committed to our protection. 
Render equal justice, my son, to the rich and the poor, and 
never suffer injustice to be done within thy dominion, for it is 
the road to perdition. Be merciful and benignant to those 
dependent upon thee. Confide the government of thy cities 
and provinces to men of worth and experience ; punish without 
compassion those ministers who oppress thy people with exor- 
bitant exactions. Pay thy troops punctually; teach them to 
feel a certainty in thy promises ; command them with gentle- 
ness but firmness, and make them in truth the defenders of 
the state, not its destroyers. Cultivate unceasingly the affec- 
tions of thy people, for in their good-will consists the seciu-ity 
of the state, in their distnist its peril, in their hatred its cer- 
tain ruin. Protect the husbandmen who cviltivate the earth, 
and yield us necessary sustenance ; never permit their fields, 
and gi'oves, and gardens to be disturbed. In a word, act in 
such wise that thy people may bless thee, and may enjoy, 
under the shadow of thy wing, a secure and tranquil life. In 



TUE WIDOW'S 0RD1£AR 179 

this consists good government; if thou dost practise it, thou 
wilt be happy aniong thy people, and renowned throughout 
the world." 

Having given this excellent counsel, the good king Abderah 
man blessed his son Hixem, and shortly after died ; being but 
in the sixtieth year of his age. He was interred with great 
pomp ; but the highest honors that distinguished his funeral 
were the tears of real sorrow shed upon his grave. He left 
behind him a name for valor, justice, and magnanimity, and 
forever famous as being the founder of the glorious line of tha 
Qmmiades in Spain. 



THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL, 

OR A JUDICIAL TRIAL BY COMBAT. 

The world is daily growing older and wiser. Its institutions 
vary with its years, and mark its growing wisdom ; and none 
more so than its modes of investigating truth, and ascertaining 
guilt or innocence. In its nonage, when man was yet a fallible 
being, and doubted the accuracy of his own intellect, appeals 
were made to heaven in dark and doubtful cases of atrocious 
axjcusation. 

The accused was required to plunge his hand in boiling oil, 
or to walk acro;3S red-hot ploughshares, or to maintain his 
innocence in armed fight and listed field, in person or by 
champion. K he passed these ordeals unscathed, he stood 
acquitted, and the result was regarded as a verdict from on 
high. 

It is somewhat remarkable that, in the gallant age of 
chivalry, the gentler sex should have been most frequently the 
subjects of these rude trials and perilous ordeals; and tliat, 
too, when assailed in their most delicate and vulnerable part — 
their honor. 

In the present very old and enlightened age of the world, 
when the human intellect is perfectly competent to the man- 
agement of its own concerns, and necc'^s no special interposition 
of heaven in its affairs, the trial by jury has superseded these 
superhuman ordeals ; and the unanimity of twelve discordant 
minds is necessary to constitute a verdict. Such a rmanimity 
would, at first sight, appear also to require a miracle from 
heaven; but it is pi'oduced by a simple device of humau 



180 THE CRAYON PAPEliS. 

ingenuity. The twelve jurors are locked up in their box, there 
to faso until abstinence shall have so clarified their intellects 
that the whole jarring panel can discern the truth, and concur 
in a unanimous decision. One point is certain, that truth is 
one, and is immutable— until the jurors all agree, they cannot 
all be right. 

It is not our intention, however, to discuss this gi'eat judicial 
point, or to question the avowed superiority of the mode of 
investigating truth adopted in this antiquated and very saga- 
cious era. It is our object merely to exhibit to the curious 
reader one of the most memoi-able cases of judicial combat we 
find in the annals of Spain. It occurred at the briglit com- 
mencement of the reign, and in the youthful, and, as yet, 
glorious days, of Roderick the Goth; who subsequently tar- 
nished his fame at home by liis misdeeds, and, finally, lost his 
kingdom and his life on the banks of the Guadalete, in that 
disastrous battle which gave up Spain a conquest to the Moors. 
The following is the story : 

There was once upon a time a certain duke of Lorraine, who 
was acknowledged throughout his domains to be one of the 
wisest princes that ever hved. In fact, there was no one 
measure adopted by him that did not astonish his privy coun- 
sellors and gentlemen in attendance ; and he said such witty 
things, and made such sensible speeches, that the jaws ot his 
high chamberlain were well-nigh dislocated from laughing with 
delight at one, and gaping with wonder at the other. 

This very witty and exceedingly wise potentate lived for 
half a century in single- blessedness ; at length his courtiers 
began to think it a great pity so wise and wealthy a prince 
should not have a child after his own likeness, to inherit his 
talents and domains ; so they urged him most respectfully to 
marry, for the good of his estate, and the welfare of his sub- 
jects. 

He turned their advice over in his mind some four or five 
years, and then sent forth emissaries to summon to his court 
ail the beautiful maidens in the land Avho were ambitious of 
sharing a ducal crown. The court was soon crowded with 
beauties of all styles and complexions, from among whom he 
chose one in the earliest budding of her charms, and acknow- 
ledged by aU the gentlemen to be unparalleled for grace and 
loveliness. The courtiers extolled the duke to the skies for 
making such a choice, and considered it another proof of his 
great wisdom. " The duke," said they, "is waxing a little tco 



THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL. 181 

old, the dfftnsel, on the other hand, is a Uttle too young; if one 
is lacking in years, the other has a superabundance; thus a 
want on oiae side is balanced by the excess on tlie other, and 
the result is a well-assorted marriage." 

The duke, as is often the case with wipe men who marry 
rather late, and take damsels rather youthful to their bosoms, 
became dotingly fond of his wife, and very properly indulged 
her in all things. He was, consequently, cried up by bis sub- 
jects in general, and by the ladies in particular, as a pattern 
for husbands ; and, in the end, from the wonderful docility 
with which he submitted to be reined and checked, acquired 
the amiable and enviable appellation of Duke Philibert the 
wife-ridden. 

There was only one thing that disturbed the conjugal felicity 
of this paragon of husbands — though a considerable time 
elapsed after his marriage, there was still no prospect of an 
heir. The good duke left no means untried to propitiate 
Heaven. He made vows and pilgrimages, he fasted and he 
prayed, but all to no purpose. The courtiers were all aston- 
ished at the circumstance. They could not account for it. 
While the meanest peasant in the country had sturdy brats by 
dozens, without putting up a prayer, the duke wore hunself to 
«kin and bone with penances and fastings, yet seemed farther 
olf from his object than ever. 

At length, the worthy prince fell dangerously ill, and felt his 
end approaching. He looked sorrowfully and dubiously upon 
his young and tender spouse, who hung over him with tears 
and sobbings. "Alas!" said he, "tears are soon dried from 
youthful eyes, and sorrow hes lightly on a youthful heart. In 
a little while thou wilt forget in the arms of another husband 
him who has loved thee so tenderly. " 

"Never! never!" cried the duchess. " Never will I cleave 
to another ! Alas, that my lord should think me capable of 
such inconstancy!" 

The worthy and wife-ridden duke was soothed by her assur- 
ances ; for he could not brook the thought of giving her up 
even after he should be dead. Still he Avished to have some 
pledge of her enduring constancy : 

"Far be it from me, my dearest wife," said he, "to control 
thee through a long hfe. A year and a day of strict fidehty 
will appease my troubled spirit. Piomise to remain faithful to 
my memory for a year and a day, and I will die in peace." 

The duchess made a solemn vow to that effect, but the uxori- 



X82 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

ous feelings of the duke were not yet satisfied . ' ' Safe bind, saf«» 
find," thought he; so he made a will, bequeathing to her aU his 
domains, on condition of her remaining true to him for a year 
and a day after his decease ; but, should it appear that, within 
that time, she had in anywise lapsed from her fidelity, the in- 
heritance should go to his nephew, the lord of a neighboring 
territory. 

Having made his will, the good duke died and was buried. 
Scarcely was he in his tomb, when his nepnew came to take 
possession, thinking, as his uncle had died without issue, the 
domains would be devised to him of couree. He was in a furi- 
ous passion, when the will was produced, and the young widow 
declared inheritor of the dukedom. As he was a violent, high- 
handed man, and one of the sturdiest knights in the land, fears 
were entertained that he might attempt to seize on the terri- 
tories by force. He had, however, two bachelor uncles for 
bosom counsellors, swaggering, rakehelly old cavaliers, who, 
having led loose and riotous lives, prided themselves upon 
knoAving the world, and being deeply experienced in human 
nature. "Prithee, man, be of good cheer," said they, "the 
duchess is a young and buxom widow. She has just buried 
our brother, who, God rest his soul ! was somewhat too much 
given to praying and fasting, and kept his pretty wife always 
tied to his girdle. She is now like a bird -from a cage. Think 
you she will keep her vow? Pooh, pooh— impossible ! Take 
our words for it — we know mankind, and, above all, woman- 
kind. She cannot hold out for such a length of time ; it is not 
in womanhood— it is not in widowhood— we know it, and that's 
enough. Keep a sharp look-out upon the widow, therefore, 
and within the twelvemonth you vnil catch her tripping - and 
then the dukedom is your own." 

The nephew was pleased with this coimsel, and immediately 
placed spies round the duchess, and bribed several of her ser- 
vants to keep watch upon her, so that she could not take a 
single step, even from one apartment of her palace to another, 
without being observed. Never was young and beautiful 
>vidow exposed to so terrible an ordeal. 

The duchess was aware of the watch thus kept upon her. 
Though confident of her own rectitude, she knew that it is not 
enough for a woman to be virtuous— she must be above the 
reach of slander. For the whole term of her probation, there- 
fore, she proclaimed a strict non-intercourse with the othei 
«ex. She bad females for cabinet ministers and chamberlains, 



THE WIDOW'S OUDKAL. 183 

through whom she transacted all her puhlic and private con- 
cerns ; and it is said that never were the affairs of the duke- 
dom so adroitly administered. 

All males were rigorously excluded from the palace; she 
never went out of its precincts, and whenever she moved about 
its coui'ts and gardens, she surrounded herself with a body- 
guard of yoimg maids of honor, commanded by dames re- 
nowned for discretion. She slept in a bed without curtains, 
placed in the centre of a room illumina.ted by inmanerable wax 
tapers. Four ancient spinsters, virtuous as Virginia, perfect 
di-agons of watchfulness, who only slept during the daytime, 
kept vigils throughout the night, seated in the four corners of 
the room on stools without backs or arms, and with seats cut 
in checkers of the hardest wood, to keep them from dozing. 

Thus wisely and warily did the young duchess conauct her- 
self for twelve long months, and slander almost bit her tong^ae 
off in despair, at finding no room even for a surmise. Never 
was ordeal more burden some, or more enduringly sustained. 

The year passed away. The last, odd day arrived, and a long, 
long day it was. It was the twenty-first of June, the longest 
day in the year. It seemed as it it would never come to an 
end. A thousand times did the duchess and her ladies watch 
the sun from the windows of the palace, as he slowly chmbed 
the vault of haaven, and seemad still more slowly to roll down. 
They coidd not help expressing; their wonder, now and then, why 
the duke should have tagged this supernu'merary day to the 
end of the year, as if three hundred and sixty-five days were 
not sufficient to try and task the fidehty of any woman. It is 
the last grain that turns the scale — the last drop that overflows 
the goblet— and the last moment of delay that exttausts the 
patience. By the time the sun sank oelow the horizon, the 
duchess was in a fidget that passed all bounds, and, though 
several hours were yet to pass before the day regularly expired, 
she could not have remained those hours in durance to gain a 
royal crown, much less a ducal coronet. So she gave orders, 
and her palfrey, magnificently caparisoned, was brought into 
the court-yard of the castle, with palfreys for aU her ladies in 
attendance. In this way she sallied forth, just as the sun had 
gone down. It was a mission of piety — a pilgrim cavalcade to 
a convent at the foot of a neighboring mountain— to return 
thanks to the blessed Virgin, for having sustained lier through 
this fearful ordeal. 

The orisons pei'formed, the duchess and her ladies returned^ 



184 THE CRAYON PAPERS. 

ambling gently along the border of a forest. It was about that 
mellovr hour of twilight when night and day are mingled, and 
all objects are indistinct. Suddenly, some monstrous animal 
sprang from out a thicket, with fearful bowlings. The female 
body-guard was thrown into confusion, and fled different ways. 
It was some time before they recovered from their panic, and 
gathered once more together ; but the duchess was not to be 
f(Huid. The greatest anxiety was felt for her safety. The 
hazy mist of twilight had prevented theii' distinguishing per- 
fectly the animal which had affrighted them. Some thought 
it a wolf, others a bear, others a wild man of the woods. For 
upwards of an nour did they beleaguer the forest, without 
daring to venture in, and were on the point ot giving up the 
ductless as torn to pieces and daroured, when, to their great joy, 
they beheld her advancing in the gloom, supported by a stately 
cavalier. 

He was a stranger knight, whom nobody knew. It was 
impossible to distinguish his countenance in the dark ; but all 
the ladies agreed that he was of noble presence and captivating 
?,ddi*ess. He had rescued the duchess from the very fangs of 
the monster, which, he assured the ladies, was neither a wolf, 
nor a bear, nor yet a wild man of the woods, but a veritable 
fiery dragon, a species of monster pecuUarly hostile to beautiful 
females in the days of chivalry, and which all the efforts of 
knight-errantry had not been able to extirpate. 

The ladies crossed themselves when they heard of the danger 
from which they had escaped, and could not enough admire 
the gallantry of the cavaHer, The duchess would fain have 
pi-evailed on her dehverer to accompany her to her court ; but 
he had no time to spare, being a knight-errant, Avho had many 
adventures on nand, and many distressed damsels and afflicted 
widows to rescue and relieve in various parts of the country. 
Taking a respectful leave, therefore, he pursued his wayfaring, 
and the duchess and her train retm-ned to the palace. Through- 
out the whole way, the ladies were unwearied in chanting the 
praises of the stranger knight, nay, many of them would will- 
ingly have incurred the danger of the dragon to have enjoyed 
the happy deliverance of the duchess. As to the latter, she 
rode pensively along, but said nothing. 

No sooner was the adventure of the wood made public, than 
a whirlwind was raised about the ears of the beautiful duchess. 
The blustering nephew of the deceased duke went about, anned 
to the teeth, with a SAvaggering unde at each shoulder, ready 



TUR WIDOW'S ORDEAL. 185 

to back him, and swore the duchess had forfeited her domain. 
It was in vain that she called all the saints, and angels, and her 
ladies in attendance into the bargain, to witness that she had 
passed a year and a day of immaculate fidelity. One fatal 
hour remained to be accounted for; and into the space of one 
little hour sins enough may be conjured up by evil tongues, to 
blast the fame of a whole life of vii-tue. 

The two graceless uncles, who had seen the world, were ever 
ready to bolster the matter through, and as they were brawny, 
broad-shouldered warriors, and veterans in brawl as weU as 
debauch, they had great sway with the miiltitude. If any one 
pretended to assert the imiocence of the duchess, they inter- 
rupted liim with a loud ha! ha! of derision. " A pretty story, 
truly," would they cry, "about a wolf and a dragon, asid a 
yomig ^vidow rescued mthe dark by a sturdy varlet who dares 
not show his face in the daylight. You voaij tell that to those 
who do not know human nature, for our parts we know the 
sex, and that's enough." 

If, however, the other repeated Ms assertion, they would 
suddenly knit their brows, swell, look big, and put their hands 
upon their swords. As few people like to fight in a cause that 
does not touch their own interests, the nephew and the uncles 
were suffered to have their way, and swagger unconuradicted. 

The matter was at length referred to a tribunal, composed of 
all the dignitaries of the dukedom, and many and repeated 
consultations were held. The character of the duchess through- 
out the year was as bright and spotless as the moon in a cloud- 
less night; one fatal hoiir of darkness alone intervened to 
eclipse its brightness. Finding human sagacity mcapable of 
dispelhng the mystery, it was determined to leave the question 
to heaven ; or in other words, to decide it by the ordeal of the 
sword— a sage tribunal in the age of chivalry. The nephew 
and two biiQy uncles were to maintain their accusation in 
listed combat, and six months were allowed to the duchess to 
provide herself with three champions, to meet them in the 
field. Should she fail in tiiis, or should her champions be 
vanquished, her honor would be considered as attainted, her 
fidelity as forfeit, and her dukedom would go to the nephew, 
as a matter of right. 

With this determination the duchess was fain to comply. 
Proclamations were accordingly made, and heralds sent to 
various parts ; but day after day, week after week, and month 
after month, elapsed, without any champion appearing to asseiif 



18(5 THE CRA YON PAPERS. \ 

her loyalty throughout that darksome hour. The fair wido^ 
was reduced to despair, when tidings reached her of grand 
tournaments to be held at Toledo, in celebration of the nup- 
tials of Don Roderick, the last oi; the Gothic kings, with the 
Morisco princess Exilona. As a last resort, the duchess re- 
paired to the Spanish court, to implore the gallantry of its 
assembled chivalry. 

The ancient city of Toledo was a scene of gorgeous revelry 
on the event of the royal nuptials. The youthful king, brave, 
ardent, and magnificent, and his lovely bride, beaming with 
£ul the radiant beauty of the East, v/ere hailed with shouts and 
acclamations whenever they appeared. 

Their nobles vied with each other in the luxury of their 
attire, their prancing steeds, and splendid retinues; and the 
haughty dames of the court appeared in a blaze of jewels. 

In the midst of all this pageantry, the beautiful, but afflicted 
Duchess of Lorraine made her approach to the throne. She 
was dressed in black, and closely veiled ; four duennas of the 
most staid and severe aspect, and six beautiful demoiselles, 
formed her female attendants. She was guarded by sevei-al 
very ancient, withered, and gray headed cavahers; and her 
train was borne by one of the most deformed and diminutive 
dwarfs in existence. 

Advancing to the foot of the throne, she knelt down, and, 
throwing up her veil, revealed a countenance so beautiful that 
half the courtiers present were ready to renounce wives and 
mistresses, and devote themselves to her service; but when 
she made known that she came in quest of champions to 
defend her fame, every cavalier pressed forward to offer his 
arm and sword, Avithout inquiring into the merits of the case ; 
for it seemed clear that so beauteous a lady could have done 
ncthing but v/hat was right ; and that, at any rate, she ought 
to be championed in following the bent of her humors, whether 
richt or wrong. 

Encouraged by such gallant zeal, the duchess suffered her- 
self to be raised from the ground, and related the whole story 
of her distress. When she concluded, the king remained for 
some time silent, charmed by the music of her voice. At 
length: "As I hope for salvation, most beautiful duchess," 
said he, "were I not a sovereign king, and bound in duty to 
my kingdom, I myself would put lance in rest to vmdicate 
your cause ; as it is, I here give full permission to my knights, 
and promise lists and a fair field, and that the contest shall 



THE WIDOWS OJWKAL. 337 

take place before the walls of Toledo, in presence of my 
assembled court. " 

As soon as the pleasure of the king was known, tlaere was a 
strife among the cavaliers present, for the honor of the contest. 
It was decided by lot, and the successful candidates weie 
objects of great envy, for ever.y one was ambitious of finding 
favor in the eyes of the beautiful widow. 

Missives were sent, summoning the nepheAv and his two 
Uncles to Toledo, to maintain their accusation, and a day was 
appomted for the combat. When the day arrived, all Toledo 
was in commotion at an early hour. The lists had been pre- 
pared in the usual place, just withoiit the walls, at the foot of 
the rugged rocks on wliich the city is built, and on that beauti- 
ful meadow along the Tagus, known by the name of the king's 
garden. The populace had already assembled, each one eager 
to secure a favorable place ; the balconies were filled with the 
ladies of the court, clad in their richest attire, and bands of 
youthful knights, splendidly armed and decorated with their 
ladies' devices, were managing their superbly caparisoned 
steeds about the field. The king at length came forth in state, 
accompanied by the queen Exilona. They took their seats in 
a I'aised balcony, under a canopy of rich damask; and, at 
sight of them, the people rent the air with acclamations. 

The nephew and his uncles now rode into the field, armed 
cap-a-pie, and followed by a train of cavaliers of their own 
roystering cast, great swearers and carousers, arrant swash- 
bucklers, with clanking armor and jmgling spurs. When the 
people of Toledo beheld the vaunting and discourteous appear- 
ance of these knights, they were more anxious than ever for 
the success of the gentle duchess; but, at the same time, the 
sturdy and stalwart frames of these warriors, showed that 
whoever won the victory from them, must do it at the cost of 
many a bitter blow. 

As the nephew and his riotous crew rode in at one side of the 
field, the fair widow appeared at the other, with her suite of 
grave gi\ayheaded courtiers, her ancient duennas and dainty 
demoiselles, and the little dwarf toiling along under the weight 
of her train. Every one made way for her as she passed, and 
blessed her beautiful face, and prayed for success to her cause. 
She took her seat in a lower balcony, not far from the sover- 
eign ; and her pale face, set off by her mourning weeds, was as 
tlie moon shuiing forth from among the cloiids of night. 

The trumpets sounded for the combat. The warriors wei-e 



183 THK CRA YON PAPERS. 

just entering tlie lists, wlien a sti-anger knight, armed in pano. 
ply, and followed by two pages and an esquire, came galloping 
into the field, and, riding up to the royal balcony, claimed the 
combat as a matter of right. 

"In me," cried he, "behold the cavalier who had the happi- 
ness to rescue the beautiful duchess from the peril of the forest, 
and the misfortmie to bring on her this grievous calumny. It 
was but recently, in the course of my errantry, that tidings oi 
her wrongs have reached my eai's, and I have urged hither at 
all speed, to stand forth in her vindication." 

No sooner did the duchess hear the accents of the knight 
than she recognized his voice, and joined her prayers with his 
that he might enter the lists. The difficulty was, to determine 
which of the three champions already appointed should yield 
liis place, each insisting on the honor of the combat. The 
stranger knight would have settled the point, by taking the 
whole contest upon himself; but this the other knights would 
not permit. It was at length determined, as before, by lot, and 
the cavalier who lost the chance retired murmuring and dis- 
consolate. 

The trumpets again sounded — the lists were opened. The 
arrogant nephew and his two drawcansir uncles appeared so 
sompletely cased in steel, that they and their steeds were like 
moving masses of iron. When they understood the stranger 
knight to be the same that had rescued the duchess from her 
peril, they gi-eeted him with the most boisterous derision : 

"O ho! sir Knight of the Dragon," said they, "you who pre- 
tend to champion fair widows in the dark, come on, and vindi- 
cate your deeds of darkness in the open day. " 

The only reply of the cavalier was to put lance in rest, and 
brace hmiself for the encounter. Needless is it to relate the 
particulars of a battle, which was like so many hundred com- 
bats that have been said and sung in prose and verse. Who is 
there but must have foreseen the event of a contest, where 
Heaven had to decide on the guilt or innocence of the most 
seautifvil and immacidate of widows? 

The sagacious reader, deeply read in this kind of judicial 
oombats, can imagine the encounter of the graceless nephew 
aid the stranger knight. He sees their concussion, man to 
man, and horse to horse, in mid career, and sir Graceless 
hurled to the ground, and slain. He will not wonder that the 
assailants of the brawny uncles were less successful in their 
rude encounter; but he will picture to himself the stout 



THE CREOLE VILLAGE. 189 

stranger spurring to their rescue, in the very critical moment ; 
he will see him transfixing one with his lance, and cleaving 
the other to the chine with a back stroke of his sword, thus 
leaving the trio of accusers dead upon the field, and estabhsh- 
ing the immaculate fidehty of the duchess, and her title to 
the dukedom, beyond the shadow of a doubt. 

The air rang with acclamations; nothing was heard but 
praises of the beauty and virtue of the duchess, and of the 
prowess of the stranger knight; but the public joy was still 
more increased when the champion raised his visor, and re 
vealed the countenance of one of the bravest cavaliers of Spain, 
renowned for his gallantry in the service of the sex, and who 
had been round the world in quest of similar adventures. 

That worthy knight, however, was severely wounded, and 
remained for a long time ill of his wounds. The lovely 
duchess, grateful for havmg twice owed her protection to his 
arm, attended him daily during his illness; and finally re- 
warded his gallantry with her hand. 

The king would fain have had the knight estabhsh his title 
to such high advancement by farther deeds of arms ; but his 
courtiers declared that he already merited the lady, by thu^ 
vindicating her fame and fortune in a deadly combat to en- 
trance; and the lady herself hinted that she was perfectly 
satisfied of his prowess in arms, frc*ra the proofs she had re- 
ceived in his achievement in the forest. 

Their nuptials were celebrated with great magnificence. 
The present husband of the duchess did not pray and fast like 
his predecessor, Phihbert the wife-ridden ; yet he found greater 
favor in the eyes of Heaven, for then' union was blessed with 
a numerous progeny — the daughters chaste and beauteous as 
their mother ; the sons stout and valiant as theii- sire, and re- 
nowned, like him, for relieving disconsolate damsels and deso- 
lated \\'idows. 



THE CREOLE VILLAGE: 

A SKETCH FROM A STEAMBOAT. 
First Published in 1837. 

In travelling about our motley country, I am often reminded 
of Ariosto's account of the moon, in which the good paladin 



190 THE an A TON PAPERS. 

Astolpho found everything garnered up that had been lost on 
earth. So I am apt to imagine, that many things lost in the 
old world, are treasured up in the new; having been handed 
down from generation to generation, since the early days of 
the colonies. A European antiquary, therefore, curious in his 
researches after the ancient and almost obhterated customs 
and usages of his country, would do well to put himself upon 
the track of some early band of emigrants, follow them across 
the Atlantic, and rmnmage among their descendants on our 
shores. 

In the phraseology of New England might be found many an 
old English provincial phrase, long since obsolete in the parent 
countiy; with sonie quaint relics of the roundheads; while 
Virginia cherishes peculiarities characteristic of the days of 
Elizabeth and Sir Walter Ealoigh. 

In the same way the sturdy yeomanry of New Jersey and 
Pennsylvania keep up many usages fading away in ancient 
Germany; while many an honest, broad-bottomed custom, 
neaily extinct in venerable Holland, may be found flourishing 
in pristine vigor and luxuriance in Dutch villages, on the banks 
of the Mohawk and the Hudson. 

In no part of our country, however, are the customs and 
peculiarities, imported from the old world by the earlier 
settlers, kept up with more fidehty than in the Uttle, poverty- 
stricken villages of Spanish and French origin, which border 
the rivers of ancient Louisiana. Their population is generally 
made up of the descendants of those nations, married and 
interwoven together, and occasionally crossed with a slight 
dash of the Indian. The French character, hoAvever, floats on 
top, as, from its buoyant quahties, it is sure to do, whenever it 
forms a particle, however small, of an intermixture. 

In these serene and dilapidated villages, art and nature stand 
still, and the world forgets to turn round. The revolutions 
that distract other parts of this mutable planet, reach not here, 
or pass over without leaving any trace. The fortimate inhabi- 
tants have none of that public spirit which extends its cares 
beyond its horizon, and imports trouble and perplexity from 
all quarters in newspapers. In fact, newspapers are almost 
unknown in these villages, and as French is the current lan- 
guage, the inhabitants have little community of opinion with 
their republican neighbors. They retain, therefore, their old 
habits oi passive obedience to the decrees of government, af? 
though they still lived under the absolute sway of colonial 



THE CREOLE VILLAGE. 191 

commandants, instead of being part and parcel of the sovereign 
people, and having a voice in public legislation. 

A few rged men, who have grown gray on their hereditary- 
acres, and are of the good old colonial stock, exert a patriar- 
chal sway in all matters of public and private unport ; their 
opinions are considered oracular, and their word is law. 

The inhabitants, moreover, have none of that eagernesfj for 
gain and rage for improvement which keep our people continu- 
ally on the move, and our country towns incessantly in a state 
of transition. There the magic phrases, "town lots," "water 
j>rivileges," "railroads," and other comprehensive and soul- 
stirring words from the specidator's vocabulary, are never 
heard. The residents dwell in the houses built by their fore- 
fathers, without thinking of enlarging or modernizing them, 
or pulling them down and turning them into gi'anite stores. 
The trees, under which they have been born and have played 
in infancy, flourish undisturbed; though, by cutting them 
down, they might open new streets, and put money in their 
pockets. In a word, the almighty dollar, that gi-eat object of 
universal devotion throughout our land, seems to have no 
genuine devotees in these pecuhar villages ; and unless some of 
its missionaries penetrate there, and erect banking houses and 
other pious shrines, there is no knowing how long the inhabi- 
tants may remain m their present state of contented poverty. 

In descending one of our great Western rivers in a steam- 
boat, I met with two worthies from one of these villages, who 
had been on a distant excursion, the longest they had ever 
made, as they seldom ventured far from home. One was the 
great man, or Grand Seigneur, of the village; not that he en- 
joyed any legal privileges or power there, evei'jiihing of the 
kind having been done away when the province was ceded by 
France to the United States. His sway over his neighbors Avas 
merely one of custom and convention, out of deference to his 
family. Beside, he was worth full fifty thousand dollars, an 
amount almost equal, in the imaginations of the villagers, to 
the treasures of King Solomon. 

This very substantial old gentleman, though of the fourth or 
fifth generation in this coimtry, retained the true Gallic fea- 
ture and deportment, and reminded me of one of those provui- 
cial potentates that are to be met with in the remote parts of 
France. He was of a large frame, a ginger-bread comiilexion, 
strong features, eyes that stood out like glass knobs, and a 
prominent nose, which he frequently rei^aled fi'om a sold 



192 THE CRAYON rAPERS. 

snuff-box, and occasionally blew, with a colored handker 
chief, until it sounded like a trumpet. 

He was attended by an old negro, as black as ebony, -svith a 
huge mouth, in a continual grin ; evidently a privilc^od and 
favorite servant, who had grown up and grown old with him. 
He Avas dressed in Creole style— with white jacket and troU' 
aers, a stiff shirt collar, that threatened to cut off his ears, a 
bright Madras handkerchief tied round his head, and large 
gold ear-rings. He was the politest negro I met with in a 
Western tour ; and that is saying a great deal, for, excepting 
the Indians, the negroes are the most gentlemanlike person 
ages to be met with in those parts. It is time, they differ from 
the Indians in being a httle exti*a pohte and complimentary. 
He was also one of the merriest ; and here, too, the negi-oes, 
hoAvever we may deplore their unliappy condition, have the 
advantage of their masters. The whites are, in general, too 
free and prosperous to be merry. The cares of maintaining 
their rights and hberties, adding to their wealth, and making 
presidents, engi-oss all their thoughts, and dry up aU the mois- 
ture of their souls. If you hear a broad, hearty, devil-may- 
care laugh, be assured it is a negro's. 

Beside this African domestic, the seigneur of the village had 
another no less cherished and pri\dleged attendant. This was 
a huge dog, of the mastiff breed, with a deep, hanging mouth, 
and a look of surly gravity. He walked about the cabin with 
the air of a dog perfectly at home, and who had paid for his 
passage. At dinner time he took his seat beside his master, 
giving him a glance now and then out of a comer of his eye, 
which bespoke perfect confidence that he would not be forgot- 
ten. Nor was he — every now and then a huge morsel would 
be thrown to him, peradventure the half -picked leg of a fowl, 
which he would receive with a snap like the springing of a 
steel-trap— one gulp, and all was down; and a glance of the eye 
told his master that he was ready for another consignment. 

The other village worthy, travelling in company with the 
seigneur, was of a totally different stamp. Small, thin, and 
weazen-faced, as Frenclxmen are apt to be represented in cari- 
cature, with a bi'ight, squirrel-like eye, and a gold ring in his 
ear. His dress was flimsy, and sat loosely on his frame, and 
he had altogether the look of one with but little coin in his 
pocket. Yet, though one of the poorest, I was assured he was 
one of the merriest and most popular personages in his native 
villaee. 



THE CREOLE VILLAGE. I93 

Compere Martin, as he was commonly called, was the facto- 
tiun of the place — sportsman, school-master, and land-sur- 
veyor. He could sing, dance, and, above all, play on the fid- 
dle, an invaluable accompUshment in a,n old French Creole 
village, for the inhabitants have a hereditary love for balls 
and fetes ; if they work but little, they dance a great deal, and 
a fiddle is the joy of their heart. 

What had sent Compere Martin travelling with the Grand 
Seigneur I could not learn; he evidently looked up to him with 
great deference, and was assiduous in rendering him petty at- 
tentions ; from which I concluded that he lived, at home upon 
the crumbs which fell from his table. He was gayest when 
out of Ms sight; and had his song and his joke when forward, 
among thb 4ec!r r^assengers; but altogether Compere ]\Iartin 
was out of his element on board of a steamboat. He was quite 
another being, I am told, when at home in his own village. 

Like his opulent fellow-traveUer, he too had his canine fol- 
lower and retainer— and one suited to his different fortunes — 
one of the civilest, most unoffending little dogs in the world. 
Unhke the lordly mastiff, he seemed to think he had no right 
on board of the steamboat ; if you did but look hard at him, he 
would throw himself upon his back, and lift up his legs, as if 
imploring mercy. 

At table he took his seat a little distance from his master ; 
not with the bluff, confident air of the mastiff, but quietly and 
diffidently, his head on one side, with one ear dubiously 
slouched, the other hopefully cocked up; his under teeth 
projecting beyond his black nose, and his eye wistfully fol- 
lowing each morsel that went in^to his master's mouth. 

If Compere Martin now and then should venture to abstract 
a morsel from his plate to give to his humble companion, it 
was edifying to see with what diffidence the exemplary little 
animal would take hold of it, with the very tip of his teeth, as 
if he would almost rather not, or was fearful of taking too 
great a liberty. And then with what decorum would he eat 
it ! How many efforts would he make in swallowing it, as if 
it stuck in his throat ; with what daintiness would he hck liis 
lips ; and then Tvdth what an air of thankfulness would he re- 
sume his seat, vfith his teeth once more projecting beyond his 
nose, and an eye of humble expectation fixed upon his master. 

It was late in the afternoon when the steamboat stopped at 
the village which was the residence of these worthies. It stood 
on the high bank of the iiver, and bore traces of having been a 



A94 TUE CRATON PAPERS. 

frontier trading post. There were the remains of stockadea 
that once protected it from the Indians, and the houses were 
in the ancient Spanish and French colonial taste, the place 
having been successively under the domination of both those 
nations prior to the cession of Louisiana to the United States. 

The arrival of the seigneur of fifty thousand doUars, and 
his humble companion, Compere Martin, had evidently been 
looked forward to as an event in the village. Numbers of 
men, Avomen, and children, white, yellow, and black, were 
collected on the river bank ; most of them clad in old-fash- 
ioned French garments, and their heads decorated with col- 
ored handkerchiefs, or white night-caps. The moment the 
steamboat came within sight and hearing, there was a waving 
of handkerchiefs, and a screaming and bawling of salutations, 
and felicitations, that baffle all description. 

The old gentleman of fifty thousand dollars was received by 
a train of relatives, and friends, and children, and grandchil- 
dren, whom he kissed on each cheek, and who formed a pro- 
cession in his rear, with a legion of domestics, of all ages, fol- 
lowing him to a large, old-fashioned French house, that domi- 
neered over the village. 

His black valet-de-chambre, in white jacket and trousers, and 
gold ear-rings, Avas met on the shore by a boon, though rustic 
companion, a taU negro fellow, with a long, good-humored face, 
and the profile of a horse, which stood out from beneath a nar- 
row-rimmed straw hat, stuck on the back of his head. The ex- 
plosions of laughter of these two varlets, on meeting and ex- 
changing comphments, were enough to electrily the country 
round. 

The most hearty reception, however, was that given to Com- 
pere Martin. Everybody, young and old, hailed him before 
he got to land. Everybody had a joke for Compere Martin, 
and Compere Martin had a joke for everybody. Even his little 
dog appeared, to partake of his popularity, and to be caressed 
by every hand. Indeed, he was quite a different animal the 
moment he touched the land. Here he was at home; here 
he was of consequence. He barked, he leapea, he frisked about 
his old friends, and then would skim round the place in a wide 
circle, as if mad. 

I traced Compere Martin and his httle dog to their home. It 
was an old ruinous Spanish house, of large dimensions, with 
verandas overshadowed by ancient elms. The house had pro- 
bably been the residence, in old times, of the Spanish com' 



THE CREOLK VILLAGE. 19^ 

mandant. In one wing of this crazy, but aristocratical abode, 
vas nestled the family of my fellow-traveller ; for poor devila 
»ire apt to be magnificently clad and lodged, in the cast-oft 
clothes and abandoned palaces of the great and wealthy. 

The arrival of Compere Martin was welcomed by a legion of 
women, cliildren, and mongi-el curs; and, as poverty and gay- 
ety generally go hand in hand among the French and theii 
descendants, the crazy mansion soon resounded with loud gossip' 
and light-hearted laughter. 

As the steamboat paused a short time at the village, I took 
occasion to stroll about the place. Most of the houses were in 
the French taste, with casements and rickety verandas, but 
most of them in flimsy and ruinous condition. All the wagons, 
ploughs, and other utensils about the place were of ancient and 
inconvenient Galhc construction, such as had been brought 
from France in the primitive days of the colony. The very 
Jooks of the people reminded me of the villages of France. 

From one of the houses came the hum of a spinning wheel, 
accompanied by a scrap of an old French chanson, which T 
have heard many a tune among the peasantry of Languedoc, 
doubtless a traditional song, brought over by the first French 
emigrants, and handed down from generation to generation. 

Half a dozen yoimg lasses emerged fi-om the adjacent dwell- 
ings, reminding me, by their light step and gay costume, of 
feenos in ancient France, where taste in dress comes natural to 
every class of females. The trim bodice and colored petticoat, 
and httie apron, with its pockets to receive the hands when in 
an attitude for conversation ; the colored kerchief woimd taste- 
fully round the head, with a coquettish knot perking above one 
ear; and the neat shpper and tight drawn stocking, with its 
braid of narrow ribbon embracing the ankle where it peeps 
from its mysterious curtain. It is from this ambush that Cupid 
sends his most inciting arrows. 

While I was musing upon the recollections thus accidentally 
summoned up, I heard the sound of a fiddle from (:he mansion 
of. Compere Martin, the signal, no doubt, for a joj^ous gather- 
ing. I was disposed to turn my steps thither, and witness the 
festivities of one of the very few villages I had met wath in 
my wide tour, that was yet poor enough to be merry ; but the 
bell of the steamboat summoned me to re-embark. 

As we swept away from the shore, I cast back a wistful eye 
upon the moss-grown roofs and ancient elms of the village, 
and prayed that the mhabitants might long retain their happy 



196 THE an A TON PAPERS. 

ignorance, their absence of all enterprise and improvement, 
their respect for the fiddlG, and their contempt for the almighty 
dollar.* I fear, however, my prayer is doomed to be of no 
avail. In a little while the steamboat whirled me to an 
American town, just springing into busthng and prosperous 
existence. 

The surrounding forest had been laid out in town lots; frames 
of wooden buildings were rising from among stumps and 
iburnt trees. The place already boasted a court-house, a jail, 
and two banks, all built of pine boards, on the model of Gre- 
cian temples. There were rival hotels, rival churches, and 
rival newspapers ; together with the usual number of judges, 
and generals, and governors; not to speak of doctors by the 
dozen, and lawyers by the score. 

The place, I was told, was in an astonishing career of im- 
provement, witn a canal and two railroads in embryo. Lots 
doubled in price every week ; every body was speculating in 
land; every body was rich; and every body was growing 
richer. The community, however, was torn to pieces by new 
doctrines in religion and in pohtical economy; there were 
camp meetings, and agrarian meetings; and an election was 
at hand, which, it was expected, would throw the whole coun> 
try into a paroxysm. 

Alas ! with such an enterprising neighbour, what is to become 
of the poor little Creole village 1 



A CONTENTED MAN. 

In the garden of the Tuileries there is a sunny comer under 
the wall of a terrace which fronts the south. Along the wall is a 
range of benches commanding a view of the walks and avenues 
of the garden. This genial nook is a place of great resort in 
the latter part of autumn, and in fine days in winter, as it 
seems to retain the flavor of departed sunmaer. On a calm, 
bright morning it is quite alive with nursery-maids and their 

* This phrase, used for the first time in this sketch, has since passed into current 
circulation, and by some has been questioned as savoring of irreverence. Tiio 
author, therefore, owes it to his orthO(roxy to declare that no irreverence was 
Intended even to the dollar itself; which he is aware is daily becoming more and 
tHoro an oiijeot of worship. 



A to^TE:^"rEn man. 197 

playful little charges. Hither also resort a number of ancient 
ladies and gentlemen, who, with the laudable thilft in small 
pleasures and smaU expenses for which the French are to be 
noted, come here to enjoy sunshine and save firewood. Here 
may often be seen some cavaher of the old school, when the 
sunbeams have warmed his blood into something like a glow, 
fluttering about like a frost-bitten moth before the fire, put- 
ting forth a feeble show of gallantry among the antiquated 
blames, and now and then eyeing the buxom nursery-maids 
with what might ahnost be mistaken for an atr of hbertinism. 

Among the habitual frequenters of this place I had often 
remarked an old gentleman, whose dress was decidedly anti- 
revolutional. He wore the three-cornered cocked hat of the 
ancien regime ; his hair was frizzed over each ear into aiies 
de jpigeon. a style strongly savouring of Bourbonism; and a 
queue stuck out behind, the loyalty of which was not to be 
disputed. His dress, though ancient, had an an- of decayed 
gentihty, and I observed that he took his snuff out of an 
elegant though old-fashioned gold box. He apjDeared to be the 
most popular man on the walk. He had a compliment for 
every old lady, he kissed every child, and he patted every 
little dog on the head ; for children and little dogs are very 
important members of society in France. I must observe, 
however, that he seldom kissed a child without, at the same 
time, pinching the nursery-maid's cheek ; a Frenchman of the 
old school never forgets his devoirs to the sex. 

I had taken a liking to this old gentleman. There was an 
habitual expression of benevolence in his face which I have 
very fi'equently remarked in these rehcs of the poHter days of 
France. The constant interchange of those thousand little 
courtesies which imperceptibly sweeten life have a happy 
effect upon the features, and spread a nieUow evening charm 
over the wrinkles of old age. 

Where there is a favorable predisposition one soon forms a 
kind of tacit uatimacy by often meeting on the same walks. 
Once or twice I accommodated him with a bench, after which 
we touched hats on passing each other ; at length we got so far 
as to take a pinch of snuff together out of his box, wliich is 
equivalent to eating salt together ia the East ; from that time 
oiu" acquaintance was established. 

I now became his frequent companion in his morning prome- 
nades, and derived much amusement from his good-hmnored 
remarks on men and manners. One morning, as we were 



IC)S Tllli CRAYON PAPERS. 

strolling through an alley of the Tiiileries, with the autumna] 
breeze whirling the yellow leaves about our path, my com- 
panion fell into a pecuharly communicative vein, and gave me 
several particulars of his history. He had once been wealthy, 
and possessed of a fine estate in the country and a noble hotel 
in Paris; but the revolution, which effected so many disas- 
trous changes, stripped him of everything. He was secretly 
denounced by his own steward during a sanguinary period of 
the revolution, and a number of the bloodhounds of the Con- 
vention were sent to arrest him. He received private inteUi- 
gence of their approach in time to effect Ms escape. He landed 
in England without money or friends, but considered himself 
singularly fortunate in having his head upon his shoulders; 
several of his neighbors having been guillotined as a punish- 
ment for being rich. 

When he reached London he had bi'.t a louis in his pocket, 
and no prospect of getting another. E o ate a solitary dinner 
of beefsteak, and was almost poisoned by port wine, which 
fi-om its color he had mistaken for claret. The dingy look of 
the chop-house, and of the little mahogany- colored box in 
which he ate his dkmer, contrasted sadly with the gay saloons 
of Paris. Ever5i;hing looked gloomy and disheartening. Pov- 
erty stared him in the face ; he turned over the few slnllings 
he had of change ; did not know what was to become of him ; 
and — went to the theatre ! 

He took his seat in the pit, listened attentively to a tragedy 
ot which he did not understand a word, and which seemed 
n:ade up of fighting, and stabbing, and scene-shifting, and 
began to feel his spirits sinking within him ; when, casting his 
eyes into the orchestra, what was his sui'prise to recognize an 
old friend and neighbor in the very act of extorting music 
from a huge violoncello. 

As soon as the evening's performance was over he tapped his 
friend on the shoulder ; they kissed each other on each cheek, 
and the musician took him home, and siiired his lodgings 
with him. He had learned music as an accomplishment •, bj- 
his friend's advice he now turned to it as a means of support. 
He procured a violin, offered himself for the orchestra, was 
received, and again considered himself one of the most fortu- 
nate men upon earth. 

Here therefore he Hved for many years during the ascer-' 
dancy of the terrible Napoleon. He found several emigranl ! 
liviiig, like himself, by the exercise of their talents. They 



CONTENTED MAN. 199 

associated together talked of France and of old times, and 
endeavorex^ uu ii.cct» ^^P ^ semblance of Parisian life in the 
centre of London. 

They dined at a miserable cheap French restaurant in the 
neighborhood of Leicester- square, where they were served with 
a caricature of French cookery. They took their promenade 
in St. James's Park, and endeavored to fancy it the Tidleries ; 
in short, they made shift to accommodate themselves to every- 
thing but an English Sunday. Indeed the old gentleman 
seemed to have notliing to say against the Enghsh, whom he 
aflOrmed to be braves gens; and he mingled so much among 
them that at the end of twenty years he could speak their 
language almost weU enough to be understood. 

The downfall of Napoleon was another epoch in his life. He 
had considered himself a fortunate man to make his escape 
penniless out of France, and he considered himself fortunate 
to be able to retui'n penniless into it. It is true that he f oimd 
his Parisian hotel had passed through several hands during 
the vicissitudes of the times, so as to be beyond the reach of 
recovejy ; but then he had been noticed benignantly by gov- 
ernmeiit, and had a pension of several hundred francs, upon 
which, with careful management, he lived independently, and, 
as far as I could judge, happily. 

As his once splendid hotel was now occupied as a hotel 
garni, he hired a small chamber in the attic ; it was but, as he 
said, changing his bedroom up two pair of stairs — he was stiU 
in his own house. His room was decorated with pictiu-es of 
several beauties of former times, with whom he professed to 
have been on favorable terms: among them was a favorite 
opera-dancer; who had been the admiration of Paris at the 
breaking out of the revolution. She had been a protegee of 
my friend, and one of the few of his youthful favorites who 
had survived the lapse of time and its various vicissitudes. 
They had rene-v/ed their acquaintance, and she now and then 
visited him ; but the beautiful Psyche, once the fashion of the 
day and the idol of the parterre, was now a shrivelled, little 
old woman, warped in the bacJi, and with a hooked nose. 

The old gentleman was a devout attendant upon levees ; he 
was most zealous in his loyalty, and coidd not speak of the 
royal family without a burst of enthusiasm, for he still felt 
towards them as his companions in exile. As to his poverty 
h& made light of it, and indeed had a good-humored way of 
consoling himself for every cross and privation. If ho had 



200 THE CRA TON PAPERS. 

lost his chateau in the country, he had half a doze n royal 
palaces, as it were, at his command, xic iiua Versailles and 
St. Cloud for his country resorts, and the shady alleys of the 
Tuileries, and the Luxembourg for his town recreation. Thus 
all his promenades and relaxations were magnificent, yet 
cost nothing. 

When I walk through these fine gardens, said he, I have only 
to fancy myself the owner of them, and they are mine. All 
these gay crowds are my visitors, and I defy the grand seignior 
himself to display a greater variety of beauty. Nay, what is 
better, I have not the trouble of entertaining them. My estate 
is a perfect Sans Soiici^ where every one does as he pleases, and 
no one troubles the owner. All Paris is my theatre, and pre- 
sents me with a continual spectacle. I have a table spread for 
me in every street, and thousands of waiters ready to fly at my 
bidding. When my servants have waited upon me I pay them, 
discharge them, and there's an end ; I have no fears of their 
wronging or pilfering me when my back is turned. Upon the 
whole, said the old gentleman, with a smile of infinite good- 
humor, when I think upon the various risks I have run, and 
the manner in which I have escaped them ; when I recollect all. 
that I have suffered, and consider all that I at present enjoy, 1 
cannot but look upon myself as a man of singular good fortune. 

Such was the brief history of this practical philosopher, and 
it is a picture of many a Frenclmaan ruined by the revolution. 
The French appear to have a greater facility than most men in 
acconnnodating themselves to the reverses of life, and of ex- 
tracting honey out of the bitter things of this world. The firsi 
shock of calamity is apt to overwhelm them, but when it i« 
once past, their natural buoyancy of feeling soon brings then 
to the surface. This may be called the result of levity ^I 
character, but it answers the end of reconciling us to misfor- 
tune, and if it be not true philosophy, it is sometliing almost; as 
efficacious. Ever since I have heard the story of my Lttle 
Frenchman, I have treasured it up in my heart; and I thank 
my stars I have at length found what I had long considered. <is 
not to be found on earth — a contented man. 

P.S. There is no calculating on human happiness. Bince 
writing the foregoing, the law of indei)mity has been passed, 
and my friend restored to a great part of his fortune. I was 
absent from Paris at tJie time, but on my return hastened t^ 
congratulate him. I foxmd him magnificently lodged on txid 



A CONTENTED MAN. 201 

first floor of his hotel. I was ushered, by a servant in livery, 

through splendid saloons, to u cauuieu richly fiu'nished, where 
I found my little Frenchman reclining on a couch. He received 
me with his usual cordiality ; but I saw the gayety and benGvc 
lence of his coimtenance had fled ; he had an eye full of care 
and anxiety. 

I congratulated hun on his good fortune. " Good foi-tune?" 
echoed he ; " bah ! I have been piimdered of a princely fortune, 
and they give me a pittance as an indenmity." 

Alas ! I found my late poor and contented friend one of the 
richest and most misei-able men in Paris. Instead of rejoicing 
in the ample competency i^estored to him, he is daily repining 
at the superfluity withheld. He no longer wanders in happy 
idleness about Paris, but is a repining attendant in the ante- 
chambers of ministers. His loyalty has evaporated with his 
gayety ; he sci'^ws his mouth when the Bourbons are mentioned, 
and even shrugs his shoulders when he hears the praises of the 
king. In a woixi, he is one of the many philosophei*s imdone 
by the law of indemnity, and his case is desperate, for I doubt 
whether even another reverse of fortune, which should restore 
him to poverty, could make him again a happy man. 



THE 



CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 



BY 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 



NEW YORK : 

WORTHINGTON CO 

747 Broadway. 



?\- 



^ 




PREFACE. 



Few events in history have been so signal and striking in 
their main circumstances, and so overwhelming and enduring 
in their consequences, as that of the conquest of Spain by the 
Saracens ; yet there are few where the motives, and characters, 
and actions of the agents have been enveloped in more doubt 
and contradiction. As in the memorable story of the Fall of 
Troy, we have to make out, as well as we can, the veritable de- 
tails through the mists of poetic fiction ; yet poetry has so com- 
bmed itself with, and lent its magic colouring to, every fact, 
that to strip it away would be to reduce the story to a meagre 
skeleton and rob it of all its charms. The storm of Moslem in- 
vasion that swept so suddenly over the peninsula, silenced for 
a time the faint voice of the muse, and drove the sons of learn- 
ing from their cells. The pen was thrown aside to grasp the 
sword and spear, and men were too much taken up with bat- 
tling against the evils which beset them on every side, to find 
time or inclination to record them. 

When the nation had recovered in some degree from the 
effects of this astounding blow, or rather, had become accus- 
tomed to the tremendous reverse which it produced, and sage 
men sought to inquire and write the particulars, it was too late 
to ascertain them in their exact verity. The gloom and melan- 
choly that had overshadowed the land, had given birth to a 
thousand superstitious fancies ; the woes and terrors of the past 
were clothed with supernatural miracles and portents, o,nd the 
actors in the fearful drama had already assumed the dubious 
characteristics of romance. Or if a v^^riter from among the con- 
querors undertook to toiich upon the theme, it was embellished 
with all the wild extravagancies of an oriental imagination; 
which afterwards stole into the graver woiics of the monkish 
historians. 

Hence, the earliest chronicles which treat of the downfaU of 
Spain, are apt to be tinctured with those saintly miracles which 



4 PREFACE. 

savour of the pious labours of the cloister, or those fanciful fic- 
tions that betray their Arabian authors. Yet, from these apoc- 
ryphal sources, the most legitimate and accredited Spanish 
histories have taken their rise, as pure rivers may be traced 
up to the fens and mantled pools of a morass. It is true, the 
authors, with cautious discrhnination, have discarded those par- 
ticulars too startling for belief, and have culled only such as, 
from their probabihty and congruity, might be safely recorded 
as historical facts ; yet, scarce one of these but has been con- 
nected in the original with some romantic fiction, and, even in 
its divorced state, bears traces of its former alliance. 

To discard, however, every thing wild and mai'vellous in this 
portion of Spanish history, is to discard some of its most beau- 
tiful, instructive, and national features ; it is to judge of Spain 
by the standard of probability suited to tamer and more pro- 
saic coim.tries. Spain is virtually a land of poetry and ro- 
mance, where every-day life partakes of adventure, and where 
the least agitation or excitement carries every thing up into ex- 
travagant enterprise and daring exploit. The Spaniards, in all 
ages, have been of swelling and braggart spirit, soaring in 
thought, pompous in word, and valiant, though vain-glorious, 
in deed. Their heroic aims have transcended the cooler con- 
ceptions of their neighbours, and their reckless daring has 
borne them on to achievements wMch prudent enterprise could 
never have accomplished. Since the time, too, of the conquest 
and occupation of their country by the Arabs, a strong infusion 
of oriental magnificence has entered into the national charac- 
ter, and rendered the Spaniard distinct from every other na- 
tion of Europe. 

In the followmg pages, therefore, the author has ventui*ed to 
dip more deeply into the enchanted fountains of old Spanish 
chronicles, than has usually been done by those who, in modern 
times, have treated of the eventful period of the conquest ; but in 
so doing, he trusts he will illustrate more fully the character of 
the people and the times. He has thought proper to throw these 
I'ecords into the form of legends, not claiming for them the au- 
thenticity of sober history, yet giving nothing that has not 
historical foundation. All the facts herein contained, however 
extravagant some of them may be deemed, will be found in the 
works of sage and reverend chroniclers of yore, growing side 
by side with long acknowledged truths, and might be supported 
by learned and imposing references in the margin. 



LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Preface 3 



LEGEND OF DON EODERICK. 

CHAPTER 

I. Of the Ancient Inhabitants of Spain— Of the Misrule of Witiza the 

Wicked 7 

II. The Rise of Don Roderick— His Government 11 

III. Of the Loves of Rodeiick and the Princess Elyata 13 

. rV. Of Count Julian 17 

v. The Story of Florinda 18 

VI. Don Roderick receives an Extraordinary Embassy S4 

Vll. Story of the Marvellous and Portentous Tower 26 

VIII. Count Julian— His Fortunes in Africa— He hears of the Dishonor of his 

Child— His Conduct thereupon 32 

LX. Secret Visit of Count Julian to the Arab Camp— First Expedition of 

Taric el Tuerto 37 

X. Letter of Muza to the Caliph— Second Expedition of Taric el Tuerto 39 

XI. Measures of Don Roderick on hearing of the Invasion— Expedition of 

Ataulpho— Vision of Taric 43 

XII. Battle of Calpe— Fate of Ataulpho 40 

XIII. Terror of the Country— Roderick rouses himself to Arms 50 

XIV. Marcli of the Gothic Army — Encampment on the Banks of the Guadalete 

— My.sterious Predictions of a Palmer — Conduct of Pelistes thereupon.. 53 

XV. Skirmishing of the Armies— Peliftos and his Son— Pelistes and the Bishop 56 

XVI. Traitorous Message of Count Julian 59 

XVII. Last Day of the Battle 61 

XVIII . The Field of the Battle after the Defeat— Fate of Roderick 64 

ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE FOREGOING LEGEND. 



The Tomb of Roderick. 
Tee Cave of Hercules . . 



CONTENTS. 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 

CHAPTER PAGE! 

I. Consternation of Spain— Conduct of the Conquerors— Missives between 

Tavic and Muza 73 

II. Capture of Granada— Subjugation of the Alpuxarra Mountains 76 

III. Expedition of Magued against Cordova— Defence of the Patriot Pelistes. 80 

IV. Defence of the Convent of St. George by Pelistes 83 

V. Meeting between the Patriot Pelistes and the Traitor Julian 86 

VI. How Taric el Tuerto captured the City of Toledo through the aid of the 

Jews, and how he found the famous Talismauic Table of Solomon 88 

VII. Muza ben Nosier: his Entrance into Spain and Captm-e of Carmona 92 

VIII. Muza marches against the City of Seville 95 

IX. Muza besieges the City of Merida 96 

X. Expedition of Abdalasis against Seville and the " Land of Tadmir" 101 

XI. Muza arrives at Toledo— Interview between him and Taric 106 

XII. Muza prosecutes the Scheme of Conquest— Siege of Saragossa— Com- 
plete Subjugation of Spain 109 

XIII. Feud between the Arab Generals— They are summoned to appear before 

the Caliph at Damascus— Reception of Taric 1 12 

Xrv. Muza arrives at Damascus— His Interview with the Caliph — The Table 

of Solomon — A rigorous Sentence 115 

XV. Conduct of Abdalasis as Emir of Spain 118 

XVI. Loves of Abdalasis and Exilona 120 

XVII. Fate of Abdalasis and Exilona— Death of Muza 123 



LEGEND OF COUNT JULIAN AND HIS FAMILY. 

Legend of Count Julian and his Family 133 

Note to the preceding Legend 137 



Legends of the Conquest oe Spain, 



THE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK.* 



CHAPTER I. 

OF THE ANCIENT INHABITANTS OF SPAIN — OF THE MISRULE OF 
WITIZA THE WICKED. 

Spain, or Iberia as it was called in ancient days, has been a 
country harassed from the earhest times by the invader. The 
Celts, the Greeks, the Phenicians, the Carthaginians, by turns 
or simultaneously, infringed its territories, drove the native 
Iberians from their rightful homes, and established colonies 
*and founded cities in the land. It subsequently fell into the 
all-gi'asping power of Rome, remaining for some time a subju- 
gated province ; and when that gigantic empire crumbled into 
pieces, the Suevi, the Alani, and the Vandals, those barbarians 
of the north, overran and ravaged this devoted country, and 
portioned out the soil among them. 

Their sway was not of long duration. In the fifth century 
the Goths, who were then the alhes of Rome, midertook the re- 
conquest of Iberia, and succeeded, after a desperate struggle of 
three years' duration. They drove before them the barbarous 
hordes, their predecessors, intermarried and incorporated 
themselves with the original inhabitants, and founded a power- 
ful and splendid empire, comprising the Iberian peninsula, 
the ancient Narbonnaise, afterwards called Gallia Gotica, or 

* Many of the facts in this legend are taken from an old chronicle, written in 
quaint and antiquated Spanish, and professing to be a translation from the Arabian 
chronicle of the MoorRasis, by Mohammed, a Moslem writer, and Gil Perez, a Span- 
ish priest. It is supposed to be a piece of literary mosaic work, made up from both 
Spanish and Arabian chronicles: yet. from this work most of the Spanish historians 
have drawn their particulars relative to the fortunes of Don Roderick. 



S LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

Gothic Gaul, and a part of the African coast called Tingitania. 
A new nation was, in a manner, produced by this mixture o£ 
the Goths and Iberians. Sprung from a union of warrior races, 
reared and nurtured amidst the din of arms, the Gothic Span- 
iards, if they may be so termed, were a warliJsie, unquiet, yet 
high-minded and heroic people. Their simple and abstemious 
habits, their contempt for toil and suffering, and their love of 
daring enterprise, fitted them for a soldier's life. So addicted 
were they to war that, when they had no external foes to con- 
tend with, they fought with one another ; and, when engaged 
in battle, says an old chronicler, the very thunders and light- 
nings of heaven could not separate them.* 

For two centuries and a half the Gothic power remained xm- 
shaken, and the sceptre was wielded by twenty-five successive 
kings. The crown was elective, in a coimcil of palatines, com- 
posed of the bishops and nobles, who, while they swore alle- 
giance to the newly-made sovereign, bound him by a recipro- 
cal oath to be faithful to his trust. Their choice was made 
from among the people, subject only to one condition, that the 
king should be of pure GotMc blood. But though the crown 
was elective in principle, it gradually became hereditary from 
iisage, and the power of the sovereign grew to be ahnost abso- 
lute. The king was commander-in-chief of the armies; the- 
whole patronage of the kingdom was in his hands; he sum- 
moned and dissolved the national councils; he made and re- 
voked laws according to his pleasm-e ; and, having ecclesiasti- 
cal suprema.cy, he exercised a sway even over the consciences 
of his subjects. 

The Goths, at the time of their inroad, were stout adherents 
to the Arian doctrines ; but after a time they embraced the 
Cathohc faith, which was maintained by the native Spaniards 
free from many of the gross superstitions of the church at 
Rome, and this unity of faith contributed more than any thing 
else to blend and harmonize the two races into one. The bish- 
ops and other clergy were exemplary in their lives, and aided 
to promote the influence of the laws and maintain the authority 
of the state. The fruits of regular and secure government were 
manifest in the advancement of agriculture, commerce, and the 
peaceful arts ; and in the increase of wealth, of luxury, and re- 
finement ; but there was a gradual decline of the simple, hardy, 



* Florian de Ocampo, lib. 3, c. 12. Justin, Abrev. Trog. Pomp. L. 44. Bleda, 

Croiiii;a, L. 2, c. 3. 



THE LEGEJSD OF DON RODERICK. 9 

and warlike habits that had distinguished the nation in its 
senii-barbarous days. 

Such Avas the state of Spain when, in the year of Redemption 
701, Witiza was elected to the Gothic throne. The beginning 
of his reig-n gave promise of happy days to Spain. He redressed 
grievances, moderated the tribvites of his subjects, and con 
ducted himself with nmigled mildness and energy in the ad- 
ministration of the laws. In a little while, however, he threw 
off the mask, and showed himself in liis true nature, cruel and 
luxurious. 

Two of his relatives, sons of a preceding king, awakened his 
jealousy for the security of his throne. One of them, named 
Favila, duke of Cantabria, he put to death, and woidd have in- 
fhcted the same fate upon his son Pelayo, but that the youth 
was beyond his reach, being preserved by Providence for the 
future salvation of Spain. The other object of his suspicion 
was Theodofredo, w-ho hved retired from court. The violence 
of Witiza reached him even in his retirement. His eyes wore 
put out, and he was immured witMn a castle at Cordova. Rod- 
erick, the youthful son of Theodofredo, escaped to Italy, where 
he received protection from the Romans. 

Witiza, now considering himself secure upon the throne, 
gave the reins to his Ucentious passions, and soon, by his 
tyraimy and sensuality, acquired the appellation of Witiza 
the Wicked. Despising the old Gothic continence, and yield- 
ing to the example of the sect of Mahomet, which suited his 
lascivious temperament, he indulged in a plurality of wives 
and concubines, encouraging his subjects to do the same. Naj', 
he even sought to gain the sanction of the church to Ms e:x 
cesses, promulgating a law by which the clergy were released 
from their vows of celibacy, and permitted to marry and to 
entertain paramours. 

The sovereign Pontiff Constantine threatened to depose and 
excommunicate him, unless he abrogated this licentious law; 
biit Witiza set liim at defiance, threatening, like his Gothic 
predecessor Alaric, to assail the eternal city with his trooj^s, 
and make spoil of her accumulated treasures.* "We avUj 
adorn our damsels, " said he, ''with the jewels of Rome, and 
replenish our coffers from the mint of St. Peter." 

Some of the clergy opposed themselves to the innovating 
spirit of the monarch, and endeavoured* from the pulpits tc 

* Chi-oii. de Luitprando, 700. Abarca, Anales de Aragon (el Mahomet ismo, Fol. .") 



10 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

rally the people to the pure doctrines of their faith ; but they 
were deposed from theu* sacred office, and banished as sedi- 
tious mischief-makers. The church of Toledo continued re- 
fractory ; the archbishop Sindaredo, it is true, was disposed to 
accommodate himself to the corruptions of the times, but the 
prebendaries battled intrepidly against the new laws of the 
monarch, and stood manfully in defence of their vows of chas- 
tity. ' ' Since the church of Toledo will not yield itself to our 
will," said Witiza, "it shall have two husbands. " So saying, 
he appointed his own brother Oppas, at that time archbishop 
of Seville, to take a seat with Sindaredo in the episcopal chair 
of Toledo, and made him primate of Spain. He was a priest 
after his own heart, and seconded him in all his profligate 
abuses. 

It was in vain the denunciations of the church were fulmi- 
nated from the chair of St. Peter; Witiza threw off all alle- 
giance to the Roman Pontiff, threatening with pain of death 
those who should obey the papal mandates. "We will suffer 
no foreign ecclesiastic, with triple crown," said he, "to domi- 
neer over our dominions. " 

The Jews had been banished from the country during the 
preceding reign, but Witiza permitted them to return, and 
even bestowed upon their synagogues privileges of which he 
had despoiled the churches. The children of Israel, when scat- 
tered throughout the earth by the fall of Jerusalem, had car- 
ried with them into other lands the gainfu''. arcana of traffic, 
and were especially noted as opulent money changers and 
curious dealers in gold and silver and precious stones ; on this 
occasion, therefore, they vv'ere enabled, it is said, to repay the 
monarch for his protection by bags of money, and caskets of 
sparkling gems, the rich product of their oriental connnerce. 

The kingdom at this tmie enjoyed external peace, but there 
were symptoms of internal discontent. Witiza took the alarm ; 
he remembered the ancient turbulence of the nation, and its 
proneness to internal feuds. Issuing secret orders, therefore, 
in all directions, he dismantled most of the cities, and demol- 
ished the castles and fortresses that might serve as rallying 
points for the factious. He disarmed the people also, and con • 
verted the weapons of war into the implements of peace. It 
seemed, in fact, as if the millennium were dawning upon the 
land, for the sword was beaten into a ploughshare, and the 
spear into a pruning-hook. 

While thus the ancient martial fire of the nation was extin- 



THE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 11 

giiished, its morals likewise were corrupted. The altars were 
abandoned, the churches closed, wide disorder and sensuality- 
prevailed throughout the land, so that, according to the old 
chroniclers, within the compass of a few short years, "Witiza 
the Wicked taught all Spain to sin." 



CHAPTEE II. 

THE RISE OF DON RODERICK— HIS GOVERNMENT. 

Woe to the ruler who founds his hope of sway on the Tivt^ak' 
ness or corruption of the people. The very measures taken 
by Witiza to perpetuate his power ensured his downfall. 
While the whole nation, under his licentious rule, was sink- 
mg into vice and effeminacy, and the arm of war was 
unstrung, the youthful Roderick, son of Theodofredo, was 
training up for action m the stern but wholesome school of 
adversity. He instructed himself in the use of arms ; became 
adroit and vigorous by varied exercises ; learned to despise all 
danger, and inured himself to hunger and watchfulness and 
the rigour of the seasons. 

His merits and misfortunes procured him many friends 
among the Romans ; and when, being arrived at a fitting age, 
he undertook to revenge the wrongs of his father and his 
kindred, a host of brave and hardy soldiers flocked to his 
standard. With these he made his sudden appearance in 
Spain. The friends of his house and the disaffected of all 
classes hastened to join him, and he advanced rapidly and 
without opposition, through an unarmed and enervated land. 

Witiza saw too late the evil he had brought upon himself. 
He made a hasty levy, and took the field with a scantily 
equipped and undisciplined host, but was easily routed and 
made prisoner, and the whole kingdom submitted to Don 
Roderick. 

The ancient city of Toledo, the royal residence of the Gothic 
kings, was the scene of high festivity and solemn ceremonial 
on the coronation of the victor. Whether he was elected 
to the throne according to the Gothic usage, or seized it by 
the right of conquest, is a matter of dispute among histori- 
ans, but all agree that the nation submitted cheerfully to his 



12 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

sway, and looked forward to prosperity and happiness under 
their newly elevated monarch. His appearance and character 
seemed to justify the anticipation. He was in the splendour 
of youth, and of a majestic presence. His soul was bold and 
daring, and elevated by lofty desires. He had a sagacity that 
l^enetrated the tlioughts of men, and a magnificent spu-it that 
won aU hearts. Such is the picture which ancient writers give 
of Don Eoderick, when, with all the stern and simple virtues 
unimpaired, which he had acquired in adversity and exile, and 
flushed with the triumph of a pious revenge, he ascended the 
Gothic throne. 

Prosperity, however, is the real touchstone of the human 
heart ; no sooner did Roderick find himself in possession of the 
crown, than the love of power and the jealousy of rule were 
awakened in his breast. His first measure was against Witiza, 
who was brought in chains into his presence. Roderick be- 
held the captive monarch with an unpitying eye, remembering 
only his wrongs and cruelties to his father. ' ' Let the evils he 
has inflicted on others be visited iipon Ms own head, " said he ; 
"as he did unto Theodofredo, even so be it done unto him." 
So the eyes of Witiza were put out, and he was thrown into 
the same dungeon at Cordova in which Theodofredo had lan- 
guished. There he passed the brief remnant of his days in 
perpetual darkness, a prey to wretchedness and remorse. 

Roderick now cast an uneasy and suspicious eye upon Evan 
and Siseburto, the two sons of Witiza. Fearful lest they 
should foment some secret rebellion, he banished them the 
kingdom. They took refuge in the Spanish dominions in 
Africa, where they were received and harboured by Requila, 
governor of Tangier, out of gratitude for favours which he had 
received from their late father. There they remained, to brood 
over their fallen fortunes, and to aid in working out the future 
woes of Spain. 

Their uncle Oppas, bishop of Seville, who had been made 
co-partner, by Witiza, in the archiepiscopal chair at Toledo, 
would have hke^vise fallen under the suspicion of the king ; but 
he was a man of consummate art, and vast exterior sanctity, 
and won upon the good graces of the monarch. He was suf- 
fered, therefore, to retain his sacred office at Seville ; but the 
see of Toledo vv-as given in charge to the venerable Urbino; and 
the law of Witiza was revoked that dispensed the clergy from 
their vows of celibacy. 

The jealousy of Roderick for the security of his crown was 



THE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 13 

soon again aroused, and his measures were prompt and severe. 
Having been informed that the governors of certain castles 
and fox'tresses in Castie land Andalusia had conspired against 
him, he caused them to be put to death and their strongholds 
to be demolished. He now went on to imitate the pernicious 
pohcy of his predecessor, throwing down walls and towers, 
disarming the people, and thus incapacitating them from re- 
bellion. A few cities were permitted to retain their fortifica- 
tions, bvit these were intrusted to alcaydes in whom he had 
especial confidence ; the greater part of the kmgdom was left 
defenceless; the nobles, who had been roused to temporary 
manhood during the recent stir of war, sunk back into the 
inglorious state of inaction which had disgraced them during 
the reign of AVitiza, passing theu* time in feasting and dancing 
to the sound of loose and wanton minstrelsy.* It was scarcely 
possible to recognize in these idle wassailers and soft voluptu- 
aries the descendants of the stem and frugal warriors of the 
frozen north ; who had braved flood and mountain, and heat 
and cold, and had battled their way to empire across half a 
world in arms. 

They surrounded their youthful monarch, it is true, with a 
blaze of military pomp. Nothing could surpass the splendour 
of their arms, Avhich were embossed and enamelled, and en- 
riched with gold and jewels and curious devices; nothing 
could be more gallant and glorious than their array; it was 
all plume and banner and silken pageantry, the gorgeous 
trappings for tilt and tourney and courtly revel ; but the iron 
soul of war was wanting. 

How rare it is to learn wisdom from the misfortunes of 
others. With the fate of Witiza full before his eyes, Don 
Roderick indulged in the same pernicious errors, and wag 
doomed, in like manner, to prepare the way for his own per' 
dition. 



CHAPTER III. 

OP THE LOVES OF RODERICK AND THE PRINCESS ELTATA. 

As yet the heart of Roderick, occupied by the struggles of 
his early life, by warlike enterprises, and by the inquietudes of 
newly-gotten power, had been insensible to the charms of* 

* Mariana. Hist. Esp. L. 6, c. 21. . - — • 



14 LhuENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

women; but in the present voluptuous calm, the amorous 
propensities of his natiu-e assumed their sway. There are 
divers accounts of the youthful beauty who first found favour 
in his eyes, and was elevated by him to the throne. We fol- 
low m our legend the details of an Arabian chronicler,* au- 
thenticated by a Spanish poet.t Let those who dispute oui 
facts, produce better authority for their contradiction. 

Among the few fortified places that had not been dismantled 
by Don Roderick, was the ancient city of Denia, situated on 
the Mediterranean coast, and defended on a rock-built castle 
that overlooked the sea. 

The ^ilcayde of the castle, with many of the people of Denia, 
was one day on his knees in the CJiapel, imploring the Virgin 
to allay a tempest which was strewing the coast with wrecks, 
when a sentinel brought word that a Moorish cruiser was 
standing for the land. The Alcayde gave orders to ring the 
alarm bells, light signal fires on the hiU tops, and rouse the 
country, for the coast was subject to cruel maraudings from 
the Barbary curisers. 

In a little while the horsemen of the neighbourhood were 
seen pricking along the beach, armed with such weapons as 
they could find, and the Alcayde and his scanty garrison de- 
scended from the hill. In the mean time the Moorish bark 
came rolhng and pitching towards the land. As it drew near, 
the rich carving and gilduig with which it was decorated, its 
silken bandaroles and banks of crimson oars, showed it to be 
no warlike vessel, but a sumptuous gahot destined for state and 
ceremony. It bore the marks of the tempest ; the masts were 
broken, the oars shattered, and fragments of snowy sails and 
silken awnings were fluttering in the blast. 

As the galiot grounded upon the sand, the impatient rabble 
rushod into the surf to capture and make spoil; but were 
awed into admiration and respect by the appearance of the 
illustrious company on board. There were Moors of both 
sexes sumptuously arrayed, and adorned with precious jewels, 
bearing the demeanour of persons of lofty rank. Among them 
shone conspicuous a youthful beauty, magnificently attired, 
to whom all seemed to pay reverence. 

Several of the Moors surrounded her with drawn swords, 
threatening death to any that approached; others sprang 



* Perdida de Espafia, por Abulcasim Tarif Abentarique, lib. 1. 
t Lope de Vega. 



THE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 15 

from the bark, and throwing themselves on their knees before 
the Alcayde, implored him, by his honour and courtesy as a 
knight, to protect a roytd virgin from injury and insult. 

" You behold before you," said they, " the only daughter of 
the king of Algiers, the betrothed bride of the son of the king 
of Tunis. We were conducting her to the court of her expect- 
ing bridegroom, when a tempest drove us from our course, and 
compelled us to take refiige on your coast. Be not moi-e cruel 
than the tempest, but deal nobly with that which even sea and- 
storm have spared." 

The Alcayde hstened to their prayers. He conducted the 
princess and her train to the castle, where every honour due 
to her rank was paid her. Some of her ancient attendants 
interceded for her hberation, promising countless sums to be 
paid by her father for her ransom ; but the Alcayde turned a 
deaf ear to all their golden offers. "She is a royal captive," 
said he; "it belongs to my sovereign alone to dispose of her." 
After she had reposed, therefore, for some days at the castle, 
and recovered from the fatigue and terror of the seas, he 
caused her to be conducted, with all her train, in magnificent 
state to the court of Don Koderick. 

The beautiful Elyata * entered Toledo more like a triumphant 
sovereign than a captive. A chosen band of Christian horse- 
men, splendidly armed, appeared to wait upon her as a mere 
guard of honour. She was surrounded by the Moorish dam- 
sels of her train, and followed by her own Moslem guards, all 
attired with the magnificence that had been intended to grace 
her aiTival at the court of Tunis. The princess was arrayed 
in bridal robes, woven in the most costly looms of the orient ; 
her diadem sparkled with diamonds, and was decorated with 
the rarest plumes of the bird of paradise, and even the silken 
trappings of her palfrey, which swept the ground, were covered 
with pearls and pi'ecious stones. As this brilliant cavalcade 
crossed the bridge of the Tagus, all Toledo poured forth to be- 
hold it, and nothing was heard throughout the city but praises 
of the wonderfid beauty of the prmcess of Algiers. King 
Roderick came forth, attended by the chivalry of his court, to 
receive the royal captive. His recent voluptuous life had dis- 
posed him for tender and amorous affections, and at the first 
sight of the beautiful Elyata he was enraptured with her 
chamis. Seeing her face clouded with sorrow and anxiety, 

* By some she is called Zara. 



re LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

he soothed her with gentle and courteous words, aud conduct- 
ing her to a royal palace, ' ' Behold, " said he, ' ' thy habitation, 
where no one shall molest thee ; consider thyself at home in 
the mansion of thy father, and dispose of any thing according 
to thy will." 

Here the princess passed her time, with the female atten- 
dants who had accompanied her from Algiers; and no one 
"but the king was permitted to visit her, who daily became 
/nore and more enamoured of his lovely captive, and sought 
by tender assiduity to gain her affections. The distress of the 
princess at her captivity was soothed by this gentle treatment. 
She was of an age when sorrow cannot long hold sway over 
iihe heart. Accompanied by her youthful attendants, she 
ranged the spacious apartments of the palace, and sported 
among the groves and alleys of its garden. Every day the 
remembrance of the paternal home grew less and less painful, 
and the king became more and more amiable in her eyes ; and 
when, at length, he offered to share his heart and throne with 
her, she listened with downcast looks and kindling blushes, 
but with an air of resignation. 

One obstacle remamed to the complete fruition of the mon- 
arch's wishes, and this was the rehgion of the i^rincess. Eod- 
erick forthwith employed the archbishop of Toledo to instruct 
the beautiful Elyata in the mysteries of the Christian faith. 
The female intellect is quick in perceiving the merits of new 
doctrines; the archbishop, therefore, soon succeeded in con- 
verting, not merely the princess, but most of her attendants, 
and a day was appointed for then' pubhc baptism. The cere- 
mony was performed with great pomp and solemnity, in the 
presence of all the nobihty and chivalry of the coui-t. The 
princess and her damsels, clad in white, walked on foot to the 
cathedral, while numerous beautiful children, arrayed as an- 
gels, strewed their path with flowers; and the archbishop 
meeting them at the portal, received them, as it were, into the 
bosom of the church. The princess abandoned her Moorish 
appellation of Elyata, and was baptized by the name of Exilona, 
by which she was thenceforth called, and has generally been 
known in history. 

The nuptials of Roderick and the beautiful convert took 
place shortly afterwards, and were celebrated with great mag- 
nificence. There were jousts, and tourneys, and banquets, 
and other i-ejoicing-s, which lasted twenty days, and were at- 
tended by the principal nobles from all parts of Spain. After 



TUE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 17 

these were over, such of the attendants of the princess as re- 
fused to embrace Christianity and desired to return to Africa, 
were dismissed with munificent presents ; and an embassy was 
sent to the king of Algiers, to inform him of the nuptials of his 
laughter, and to proft'er him the friendship of King Roderick.* 



CHAPTER IV. 

OF COUNT JULIAN. 

For a time Don Roderick lived happily with his young and 
beautiful queen, and Toledo was the seat of festivity and splen- 
dour. The principal nobles throughout the kingdom repaired 
to Ms court to pay him homage, and to receive his commands ; 
and none were more devoted in their reverence than those who 
were obnoxious to suspicion from their connexion with the late 
king. 

- Among the foremost of these was Count Julian, a man des- 
tined to be infcimously renowned in the dark story of his coun- 
try's woes. He was of one of the proudest Gothic families, 
lord of Consuegra and Algeziras, and connected by marriage 
with Witiza and the Bishop Oppas; his wife, the Countess 
Frandina, being then- sister. In consequence of this connex- 
ion, and of his own merits, he had enjoyed the highest dig- 
nities and commands, being one of the Espatorios, or royal 
sword-bearers ; an office of the greatest confidence about the 
person of the sovereign. t He had, moreover, been entrusted 
with the military government of the Spanish possessions on 
the African coast of the strait, which at that time were threat- 
ened by the Arabs of the East, the followers of Mahomet, who 
were advancing then- victorious standard to the extremity of 

* " Como esta Infanta era tnuy hermosa, y el Rey [Don Rodrig^o] dispuesta y Ren- 
til hombre, entro por medio el amor y aficion, y junto con el regale con que la avia 
raandado hospedar y servir f ul causa que el rey persuadio esta Infanta, que si se 
tornava a su ley de christiano la tomaria por muger, y que laharia seflora de sus 
Reynos. Con esta persuasion ella feu contenta, y aviendose viielto Christiana, se 
caso con ella, y se celebraron sus bodas con muchas fiestas y regozijos, como era 
razon." — Abulcasim, Conq'st de Espan. cap. 3. 

t Condes Espatorios; so called from the diawn swords of ample si^se and breadth 
with which they kept guard in the ante-chambers of the Gothic kings. Comes 
Spathariorum, custodum corporis Regis Profectus. Hunc et Propi»spatharium ap- 
pellatum existimo. — Patr. Pant, de Offlc. Goth. 



18 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

Western Africa. Count Julian established his seat of govern- 
ment at Ceuta, the frontier bulwark and one of the far-famed 
gates of the Mediterranean Sea. Here he boldly faced, and 
held in check, the torrent of Moslem invasion. 

Don Jidian was a man of an active, but irregular genius, and 
a grasping ambition ; he had a love for power and grandeur, in 
wliich he was joined by his haughty countess; and they could 
ill brook the downfall of their house as threatened by the fate 
of Witiza. They had hastened, therefore, to pay their court 
to the newly elevated monarch, and to assure him of their 
fidelity to his interests. 

Roderick was readily persuaded of the sincerity of Count 
Julian ; he was aware of his merits as a soldier and a governor, 
and continued him in liis important command : honouring him 
with many other marks of implicit confidence. Count Julian 
sought to confirm this confidence by every proof of devotion. 
It was a custom among the Goths to rear many of the children 
of the most illustrious families in the royal household. They 
served as pages to the king, and handmaids and ladies of hon- 
otu' to the queen, and were instructed in all manner of accom- 
plishments befitting theii" gentle blood. When about to depart 
for Ceuta, to resume his command, Don Julian brought his 
daughter Florinda to present her to the sovereigns. She was 
a beautiful virgin that had not as yet attained to womanhood. 
" I confide her to your protection," said he to the king, " to be 
unto her as a father ; and to have her trained in the paths of 
virtue. I can leave with you no dearer pledge of my loyalty. " 

King Roderick received the timid and blushing maiden into 
his paternal care; promising to watch over her happiness with 
a parent's eye, and that she should be enrolled among the most 
cherished attendants of the queen. With this assurance of the 
welfare of his child, Count Julian departed, well pleased, for 
his govermnent at Ceuta. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE STORY OF FLORINDA. 

The beautiful daughter of Covmt Julian was received witi > 
gi'eat favour by the Queen Exilona and admitted among the 
noble damsels that attended upon her person. Here she lived 



THK LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 19 

in honour and apparent security, and surrounded by innodfent 
delights. To gratify his queen, Don Roderick had built for her 
rural recreation a palace without the walls of Toledo, on the 
banks of the Tagus. It stood in the midst of a garden, adorned 
after the luxurious style of the East. The air was perfumed 
by fragrant shrubs and flowers; the groves resounded with the 
song of the nightingale, while the gush of fountains and water- 
falls, and the distant murmui- of the Tagus, noade it a dehght- 
ful retreat during the sultry days of summer. The charm of 
perfect privacy also reigned throughout the place, for the gar- 
den walls were high, and numerous guards kept watch with- 
out to protect it from all intrusion. 

In tliis delicious abode, more befitting an oriental voluptuary 
than a Gothic king, Don Eoderick was accustomed to while 
away much of that time which should have been devoted to 
the toilsome cares of government. The very security and 
peace which he had produced throughout his dominions by 
his precautions to abolish the means and habitudes of war, 
had effected a disastrous change in his character. The hardy 
and heroic qualities which had conducted him to the throne, 
were softened in the lap of indulgence. Surrounded by the 
pleasures of an idle and effeminate court, and beguiled by the 
exam.ple of his degenerate nobles, he gave way to a fatal sen- 
suahty that had lain dormant in his nature during the virtu- 
ous days of his adversity. The mere love of female beauty 
had first enamoured him of Exilona, and the same passion, 
fostered by voluptuous idleness, now betrayed him into the 
commission of an act fatal to hhnself and Spain. The follow- 
ing is the story of his error as gathei'ed from an old chronicle 
and legend. 

In a remote part of the palace was an apartment devoted to 
the queen. It was like an eastern harem, shut up from the 
foot of man, and where the king himself but rarely entered. 
It had its own courts, and gardens, and foimtains, where the 
queen was wont to recreate herself with her damsels, as she 
had been accustomed to do in the jealous privacy of her fa- 
ther's palace. 

One sultry day, the king, instead of taking his siesta, or 
mid-day slumber, repau'ed to this apartment to seek the 
society of the queen. In passing through a small oratory, 
he was drawn by the sound of female voices to a casement 
overhung with myrtles and jessamines. It looked into an 
interior garden or court, set out with orange-trees, in the 



20 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

miSst of which was a marble fountain, surrounded by j 
grassy bank, enamelled with flowers. 

It was the high noontide of a summer day, when, in sultry 
Spain, the landscape trembles to the eye, and all nature seeks 
repose, except the grasshopper, that pipes his lulling note 
to the herdsman as he sleeps beneath the shade. 

Around the fountain were several of the damsels of the 
queen, who, confident of the sacred privacy of the place, were 
yielding in that cool retreat to the indulgence prompted by the 
season and the hour. Some lay asleep on the flowery bank ; 
others sat on the margin of the fountain, talking and laughing, 
as they bathed their feet in its Umpid waters, and King Rod- 
erick beheld delicate hmbs shining through the wave, that 
might rival the marble in whiteness. 

Among the damsels was one who had come from the Bar- 
bary coast with the queen. Her complexion had the dark 
tinge of Mauritania, but it was clear and transparent, and the 
deep rich rose blushed through the lovely brown. Her eyes 
were black and full of fire, and flashed from under long silken 
eyelashes. 

A sportive contest arose among the maidens as to the com- 
parative beauty of the Spanish and Moorish forms; but the 
Mauritam'an damsel revealed limbs of voluptuous symmetry 
that seemed to defy all rivalry. 

The Spanish beauties were on the point of giving up the 
contest, when they bethought themselves of the young Flo- 
rinda, the daughter of Count Julian, who lay on the grassy 
bank, abandoned to a summer slumber. The soft glow of 
youth and health mantled on her cheek ; her fringed eyelashes 
scarcely covered their sleeping orbs ; her moist and ruby lips 
were slightly parted, just revealing a gleam of her ivory teeth, 
while her innocent bosom rose and fell beneath her bodice, 
like the gentle swelling and sinking of a tranquil sea. There 
was a breathing tenderness and beauty in the sleeping virgin, 
that seemed to send forth sweetness like the flowers around 
her. 

"Behold," cried her companions exultingly, "the champion 
of Spanish beauty !" 

In their playful eagerness they half disrobed the innocent 
Florinda before she was aware. She awoke in tune, however, 
to escape from their busy hands; but enough of her charms 
had been revealed to convince the monarch that they were 
not to be rivalled by the rarest beauties of Mauritania. 



TEE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 21 

From this day the heart of Eoderick was inflamed with a 
fatal passion. He gazed on the beautiful Florinda with fervid 
desire, and sought to read ta her looks whether there was 
levity or wantomaess in her bosom ; but the eye of the damsel 
ever sunk beneath his gaze, and remained bent on the earth in 
virgin modesty. 

It was in vain he called to mind the sacred trust reposed 
in him. by Count Julian, and the promise he had given to 
watch over his daughter with paternal care; his heart was 
vitiated by sensual indulgence, and the consciousness of power 
had rendered him selfish in his gratifications. 

Being one evening in the garden where the queen was divert- 
ing herself with her damsels, and coming to the fountain 
where he had beheld the innocent maidens at their sport, he 
could no longer restrain the passion that raged within his 
breast. Seating himself beside the fountain, he called Flo- 
rinda to him to draw forth a thorn which had pierced his 
hand, The maiden knelt at his feet, to examine his hand, 
and the touch of her slender fingers thrilled through his veins. 
As she knelt, too, her amber locks fell in rich ringlets about 
her beautiful head, her innocent bosom palpitated beneath 
the crimson bodice, and her timid blushes increased the effiil- 
gence of her charms. 

Having examined the monarch's hand in vain, she looked 
up in his face with artless perplexity. 

"Senor," said she, "I can find no thorn, nor any sign of 
wound. " 

Don Eoderick grasped her hand and pressed it to his heart. 
"It is here, lovely Florinda!" said he. "It is here! and thou 
alone canst pluck it forth !" 

"My lord !" exclaimed the blushing and astonished maiden. 

"Florinda!" said Don Eoderick, "dost thou love me ?" 

"Senor," said she, "my father taught me to love and 
reverence you. He confided me to your care as one who 
would be as a parent to me, when he should be far distant, 
serving your majesty with life and loyalty. May God incline 
your majesty ever to protect me as a father." So saying, the 
maiden dropped her eyes to the ground, and continued kneel- 
ing : but her countenance had become deadly pale, and as she 
knelt she trembled. 

"Florinda," said the king, "either thou dost not, or thou 
wilt not miderstand me. I would have thee love me, not as a 
father, nor as a monarch, but as one who adores thee. Wliy 



22 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

dost thou start ? No one shall know our loves; and, moreover, 
the love of a monarch inflicts no degradation like the love of 
a common man — riches and honours attend upon it. I will 
advance thee to rank and dignity, and place thee above the 
proudest females of my court. Thy father, too, shall be more 
exalted and endowed than any noble in my realm." 

The soft eye of Flcrinda kindled at these words. " Senor," 
said she, "the line I spring from can receive no dignity by 
means so vile ; and my father would rather die than purchase 
rank and power by the dishonour of his child. But I see," 
continued she, "that your majesty speaks in this manner 
only to try me. You may have thought me hght and simple, 
and unworthy to attend upon the queen. I pray your majesty 
to pardon me, that I have taken your pleasantry in such 
serious part." 

In this way the agitated maiden sought to evade the ad- 
dresses of the monarch, biit still her cheek was blanched, and 
her lip quivered as she spake. 

The king pressed her hand to his hps with fervour. "May 
ruin seize me," cried he, " if I speak to prove thee. My heart, 
my kingdom, are at thy command. Only be mine, and thou 
shalt rule absolute mistress of myself and my domains." 

The damsel rose from the earth where she had hitherto 
knelt, and her whole countenance glowed with virtuous in- 
dignation. "My lord," said she, "I am your subject, and in 
your power ; take my life if it be your pleasure, but nothing 
shall tempt me to commit a crime which would be treason to 
the queen, disgrace to my father, agony to my mother, and 
perdition to myself." With these words she left the garden, 
and the king, for the moment, was too much awed by her 
mdignant virtue to oppose her departure. 

We shall pass briefly over the succeeding events of the story 
of Florinda,, about which so much has been said and sung by 
chronicler and bard: for the sober page of history shoidd be 
carefully chastened from all scenes that might inflame a wan- 
ton imagination,— leaving them to poems and romances, and 
such like highly seasoned works of fantasy and recreation. 

Let it suffice to say, that Don Roderick pursued his suit to 
the beautiful Florinda, his passion being more and more in- 
flamed by the resistance of the virtuous damsel. At length, 
forgetting what was due to helpless beauty, to his own honour 
as a knight, and his word as a sovereign, he triumphed over 
her weakness by base and unmanly violence. 



THE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 23 

There are not wanting those "who affirm that the hapless 
Florinda lent a yielding ear to the solicitations of the monarch, 
and her name has been treated with opprobrium in several of 
the ancient chronicles and legendary ballads that have trans- 
mitted, from generation to generation, the story of the woes of 
Spain. In very truth, however, she appears to have been a 
guiltless victim, resisting, as far as helpless female could resist, 
the ai'ts and iatrigues of a powerfid monarch, who had nought 
to check the indulgence of his wUl, and bewailing her disgrace 
with a poignancy that shows how dearly she had prized her 
honour. 

In the first paroxysm of her grief she wrote a letter to her 
father, blotted with her tears and almost incoherent from her 
agitation. "Would to God, my father," said she, "that the 
earth had opened and swallowed me ere I had been reduced to 
write these Imes. I blush to tell thee, what it is not proper to 
conceal. Alas, my father ! thou hast entrusted thy lamb to 
the guardianship of the Hon. Thy daughter has been dis- 
honoured, the royal cradle of the Goths polluted, and our line- 
age insulted and disgraced. Hasten, my father, to rescue your 
child from the power of the spoiler, and to vindicate the honour 
of your house." 

When Florinda had wi'itten these Hues, she summoned a 
youthful esquire, who had been a page in the service of her 
father. " Saddle thy steed," said she, " and if thou dost aspire 
to knightly honour, or hope for lady's grace ; if thou hast fealty 
for thy lord, or devotion to his daughter, speed swiftly upon 
my errand. Rest not, halt not, spare not the spur, but hie 
thee day and night untU thou reach the sea ; take the first 
bark, and haste with sail and oar to Ceuta, nor pause until 
thou give this letter to the count my father." The youth put 
the letter in his bosom. "Trust me, lady," said he, "IwiQ 
neither halt, nor turn aside, nor cast a look behind, until I 
reach Count Julian." He mounted his fleet steed, sped his 
way across the bridge, and soon left behind him the verdant 
valley of the Tagus. 



24 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

CHAPTER VI. 

DON RODERICK RECEIVES AN EXTRAORDINARY EMBASSY, 

The heart of Don Roderick was not so depraved by sensual- 
ity, but that the wrong he had been guilty of toward the in- 
nocent Florinda, and the disgrace he had inflicted on her 
house, weighed heavy on his spirits, and a cloud began to 
gather on his once clear and un wrinkled brow. 

Heaven, at this time, say the old Spanish chronicles, per- 
mitted a marvellous intimation of the wrath with wliich it in- 
tended to visit the monarch and his people, in punishment of 
their sins; nor are we, say the same orthodox writers, to 
startle and withhold our faith when we meet in the page of 
discreet and sober history with these signs and portents, which 
transcend the lirobabilities of ordinary life ; for the revolutions 
of empires and the downfall of mighty kings are awful events, 
that shake the physical as well as the moral world, and are 
often announced by forerunning marvels and prodigious omens. 

With such like cautious preliminaries do the wary but credu- 
lous historiographers of yore usher in a marvellous event of 
prophecy and enchantment, linked in ancient story with the 
fortunes of Don Roderick, but which modern doubters would 
fain hold up as an apocryphal tradition of Arabian origin. 

Now, so it happened, according to the legend, that about this 
time, as King Roderick was seated one day on his throne, sur- 
rounded by his nobles, in the ancient city of Toledo, two men 
of venerable appearance entered the hall of audience. Their 
snowy beards descended to their breasts, and their gray hairs 
were bound with ivy. They were arrayed in white garments 
of foreign or antiquated fashion, which swept the ground, and 
were cinctured with girdles, wrought with the signs of the 
zodiac from which were suspended enormous bunches of keys 
of every variety of form. Having approached the throne 
and made obeisance: "Know, O king," said one of the old 
men, "that in days of yore, when Hercules of Libya, sur- 
named the Strong, had set up his pillars at the ocean strait, he 
erected a tower near to this ancioiit city of Toledo. He built it 
of prodigious strength, and finished it with magic art, shutting 
up within it a fearful secret, never to be penetrated without 
peril and disaster. To protect this terrible mystery he closed 
the entrance to the edifice with a ponderous door of iron. 



THE LEGEND OF DON EODEEICK 25 

secured by a great lock of steel, and he left a command that 
every king who should succeed him should add another lock 
to the portal; denoimcing woe and destruction on him who 
should eventually unfold the secret of the tower. 

"The guardianship of the portal was given to our ancestors, 
and has continued in our family, from generation to genera' 
tion, since the days of Hercules. Several kings, from time to 
time, have caused the gate to be thrown open, and have at- 
tempted to enter, but have paid dearly for then' temerity. 
Some have perished within the thi'eshold, others have been 
overwhelmed with horror at tremendous sounds, which shook 
the foundations of the earth, and have hastened to i-eclose the 
door and secure it with its thousand locks. Thus, since the 
days of Hercules, the inmost recesses of the pUe have never 
been penetrated by mortal man, and a profound mystery con- 
tinues to prevail over this great enchantment. This, O king, 
is aU we have to relate ; and our errand is to entreat thee to 
repair to the tower and affix thy lock to the portal, as has 
been done by all thy predecessors." Having thus said, the 
ancient men made a profound reverence and departed from the 
presence chamber.* 

Don Eoderick remained for some time lost in thought after 
the departure of the men; he then dismissed all his court 
excepting the venerable Urbino, at that time archbishop of 
Toledo. The long white beard of this prelate bespoke his ad' 
vanced age, and his overhanging eyebrows showed him a man 
full of wary coimsel. 

" Father," said the king, " I have an earnest desire to pene- 
trate the mystery of tliis tower." The worthy prelate shook 
his hoary head. ' ' Beware, my son, " said he ; " there are secrets 
hidden from man for his good. Your predecessors for many 
generations have respected this mystery, and have increased 
in might and empire. A knowledge of it, therefore, is not 
material to the welfare of your kingdom. Seek not then to 
indulge a rash and unprofitable curiosity, which is interdicted 
under such awful menaces." 

" Of what importance," cried the king, "are the menaces of 
Hercules the Libyan? was he not a pagan; and can his en- 
chantments have aught avail against a behever in our holy 
faith? Doubtless in this tower are locked up treasm^es of gold 

* Perdida de EspaHa, por Abulcasim Tarif Abentarique, 1. 1, c. 6. Cronioa del Ref 
Don Rodrigo, por el Moro Rasls, 1. 1, c. 1. Bleda, Cron. cap. vii. 



26 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SFAm. 

and jewels, amassed in days of old, the spoils of mighty kings, 
the riches of the pagan world. My coffers are exhausted; I 
have need of supply ; and surely it would be an acceptable act 
in the eyes of heaven, to draw forth this wealth which hes 
buried under profane and necromantic speUs, and consecrate it 
to religious purposes." 

The venerable archbishop still continued to remonstrate, but 
Don Eoderick heeded not his counsel, for he was led on by his 
mahgnant star. " Father," said he, " it is in vain you attempt 
to dissuade me. My resolution is fi^ed. To-morrow I will 
explore the hidden mystery, or rather the hidden treasures, of 
this tower." 



CHAPTER VII. 

STORY OF THE MARVELLOUS AND PORTENTOUS TOWER. 

The morning sun shone brightly upon the cUff -built towers of 
Toledo, when King Roderick issued out of the gate of the city 
at the head of a numerous train of courtiers and cavaliers, and 
crossed the bridge that bestrides the deep rocky bed of the 
Tagus. The shining cavalcade wound up the road that leads 
among the mountains, and soon came in sight of the necromantic 
tower. 

Of this reno\vTied edifice marvels are related by the ancient 
Arabian and Spanish chroniclers, "and I doubt much," adds 
the venerable Agapida, ' ' whether many readers wiU not con- 
sider the whole as a cunningly devised fable, sprung from an 
oriental imagination ; but it is not for me to reject a fact which 
is recorded by aU those writers who are the fathers of our 
national history ; a fact, too, which is as well attested as most 
of the remarkable events in the story of Don Roderick. None 
liut light and inconsiderate minds, " continues the good friar, 
" do hastily reject the marvellous. To the thinking mind the 
whole world is enveloped in mystery, and every thing is full of 
type and portent. To such a mind the necromantic tower of 
Toledo will appear as one of those wondrous monuments of 
the olden time; one of those Egyptian and Chaldaic piles, 
storied with hidden wisdom and mystic prophecy, which have 
been devised in past ages, when man yet enjoyed an intercourse 
with high and spiritual natures^ and when human foresight 
partook of divination.' 



THE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 27 

This singular tower was round and of great height and gran- 
deur, erected upon a lofty rock, and surrounded by crags and 
precipices. The foundation was supported by four brazen 
lions, each taUer than a cavalier on horseback. The walls were 
built of small pieces of jasper and various coloured marbles, 
I not larger than a man's hand; so subtilely joined, however, 
that, but for their different hues, they might be taken for one 
entire stone. They were arranged with marvellous ctmning so 
as to represent battles and warlike deeds of times and heroes 
long since passed away, and the whole surface was so admirably 
polished that the stones were as lustrous as glass, and reflected 
the rays of the sun with such resplendent brightness as to daz- 
zle all beholders.* 

King Roderick and his courtiers arrived wondering and 
amazed at the foot of the rock. Here there was a narrow arched 
way cut through the living stone: the only entrance to the 
tower. It was closed by a massive iron gate covered with 
rusty locks of divers workmanship and in the fashion of differ- 
ent centuries, which had been affixed by the predecessors of 
Don Roderick. On cither side of the portal stood the two an- 
cient guardians of the tower, laden with the keys appertaining 
to the locks. 

The king ahghted, and approaching the portals, ordered the 
guardians to imlock the gate. The hoary-headed men drew 
back with terror. ' ' Alas !" cried they, ' ' what is it your majesty 
requires of us? Would you have the mischiefs of this tower 
unbound, and let loose to shake the earth to its foundations?" 

The venerable archbishop Urbino likewise implored him not 
to disturb a mystery which had been held sacred from genera- 
tion to generation within the memory of man, and which even 
Caesar himself, when sovereign of Spain, had not ventured to 
invade. The youthful cavaliers, however, were eager to pur- 
sue the adventure, and encouraged him in his rash curiosity. 

"Come what come may," exclaimed Don Roderick, "I am 
resolved to penetrate the mystery of this tower." So saying, 
he again cormnanded the guardians to unlock the portal. The 
ancient men obeyed with fear and trembling, but their hands 
shook with age, and when they applied the keys the locks were 
60 rusted by time, or of such strange Avorkmanship, that they 
resisted their feeble efforts, whereupon the young cavaliers 



♦From the minute account of the good friar, drawn from the ancient chronicles, 
it would appear that the walls of the tower were pictured in mosaic work. 



28 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

pressed forward and lent their aid. Still the locks were so 
numerous and difficult, that with all their eagerness and 
strength a great part of the day was exhausted before the 
whole of them could be mastered. 

When the last bolt had yielded to the key, the guardians and 
the reverend archbishop again entreated the king to pause 
and reflect. " Whatever is within this tower," said they, "is 
as yet harmless and lies bound under a mighty spell : venture 
not then to open a door which may let forth a flood of evil 
upon the land." But the anger of the king was roused, and he 
ordered that the portal should be instantly thrown open. In 
vain, however, did one after another exert his strength, and 
equally in vain did the cavahers unite their forces, and apply 
their shoulders to the gate ; though there was neither bar nor 
bolt remaining, it was perfectly immovable. 

The patience of the king was now exhausted, and he ad- 
vanced to apply his hand ; scarcely, however, did he touch the 
iron gate, when it swung slowly open, uttering, as it were, a 
dismal groan, as it turned reluctantly upon its hinges. A cold, 
damp wind issued forth, accompanied by a tempestuous sound. 
The hearts of the ancient guardians quaked within them, and 
their knees smote together ; but several of the youthful cava- 
liers rushed in, eager to gratify their curiosity, or to signalize 
themselves in this redoubtable enterprise. They had scarcely 
advanced a few paces, however, when they recoiled, overcome 
by tiie baleful air, or by some fearful vision.* Upon this, the 
king ordered that fires should be kindled to dispel the dark- 
ness, and to correct the noxious and long imprisoned air ; he 
then led the way into the interior; but, though stout of heart, 
he advanced with awe and hesitation. 

After proceeding a short distance, he entered a hall, or ante- 
chamber, on the opposite of which was a door, and before it, 
on a pedestal, stood a gigantic figure, of the colour of bronze, 
and of a terrible aspect. It held a huge mace, which it twirled 
incessantly, giving such cruel and resounding blows upon the 
earth as to prevent aU further entrance. 

The king paused at sight of this appaUing figure, for whether 
it were a living being, or a statue of magic artifice, he could 
not tell. On its breast was a scroll, whereon was inscribed 
in large letters, " I do my duty." t After a little while Eoder- 
ick phicked up heart, and addressed it with great solemnity : 

* Bleda, Cronica, cap. 7. t Idem, 



THE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 29 

"Whatever thou be," said he, " know that I come not to vio- 
late this sanctuary, but to inquire into the mystery it con- 
tains; I conjure thee, therefore, to let me pass in safety." 

Upon this the figure paused with uphf ted mace, and the king 
and his train passed unmolested through the door. 

They now entered a vast chamber, of a rare and sumptu- 
ous architecture, difficult to be described. The walls were 
encrusted with the most precious gems, so joined together as 
to form one smooth and perfect siirface. The lofty dome ap- 
peared to be self-supported, and was studded with gems, lus- 
trous as the stars of the firmament. There was neither wood, 
nor any other coramon or base material to be seen throughout 
the edifice. There were no windows or other openings to 
admit the day, yet a radiant light was spread throughout the 
place, which seemed to shine from the walls, and to render 
every object distinctly visible. 

In the centre of this hall stood a table of alabaster of 
the rarest workmanship, on which was inscribed in Greek 
characters, that Hercules Alcides, the Theban Greek, had 
founded this tower in the year of the world three thousand 
and six. Upon the table stood a golden casket, richly set 
round with precious stones, and closed with a lock of mother- 
of-pearl, and on the lid were inscribed the following words : 

" In this coffer is contained the mystery of the tower. The 
hand of none but a king can open it ; but let him beware ! for 
marvellous events will be revealed to him, which are to take 
place before Ms death." 

King Eoderick boldly seized upon the casket. The venerable 
archbishop laid liis hand upon his arm, and made a last remon- 
strance. "Forbear, my son!" said he; "desist while there is 
yet time. Look not into the mysterious decrees of Providence. 
God has hidden them in mercy from our sight, and it is impious 
to rend the veil by which they are concealed." 

"What have I to dread from a knowledge of the future?" 
replied Eoderick, with an air of haughty presumption. "If 
good be destined me, I shall enjoy it by anticipation ; if evil, I 
shall arm myself to meet it." So saying, he rashly broke the 
lock. 

Within the coffer he found nothing but a linen cloth, folded 
between two tablets of copper. On unfolding it he beheld 
painted on it figures of men on horseback, of fierce demeanour, 
clad in turbans and robes of various colours, after the fashion 
of the Arabs, with scimitars hanging from their necks and 



30 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SFAIN. 

cross-bows at their saddle-backs, and they carried banners and 
pennons with divers devices. Above them was inscribed in 
Greek characters, ' ' Rash monarch ! behold the men \A\o are to 
hurl thee from thy throne, and subdue thy kingdom!" 

At sight of these things the king was troubled in spii-it, and 
dismay fell upon his attendants. While they were yet regard- 
ing the paintings, it seemed as if the figures began to move, 
and a faint sound of warlike tmnult arose from the cloth, with 
the clash of cymbal and bray of trumpet, the neigh of steed 
and shout of army ; but all was heard indistinctly, as if afar 
off, or in a reverie or dream. The more they gazed, the plainer 
became the motion, and the louder the noise; and the linen 
cloth rolled forth, and amphfied, and spread out, as it were, a 
mighty banner, and filled the hall, and mingled with the air, 
until its texture was no longer visible, or appeared as a trans- 
parent cloud. And the shadowy figures appeared all in 
motion, and the din and uproar became fiercer and fiercer ; and 
whether the whole were an animated picture, or a vision, or an 
array of embodied spirits, conjured up hy supernatural power, 
no one present could tell. They beheld before them a great 
field of battle, where Christians and Moslems were engaged in 
deadly conflict. They heard the rush and tramp of steeds, the 
blast of trump and clarion, the clash of cymbal, and the stormy 
din of a thousand drums. There was the clash of swords, and 
maces, and battle-axes, with the whistling of arrows and the 
hvu-tling of darts and lances. The Christians quailed before the 
foe; the infidels pressed upon them and put them to utter 
rout ; the standard of the cross was cast down, the banner of 
Spain was trodden under foot, the air resounded with shouts of 
triumph, with yells of fury, and with the groans of dying men. 
Amidst the flying squadrons King Roderick beheld a crowned 
warrior, whose back was towards him, but whose armour and 
device were his own, and who was mounted on a white steed 
that resembled his own war-horse Oreha. In the confusion of 
the flight, the warrior was dismounted and was no longer to be 
seen, and Orelia galloped wildly through the field of battle 
without a rider. 

Roderick stayed to see no more, but rushed from the fatal 
hall, followed by his terrified attendants. They fled through 
tlie outer chamber, where the gigantic figure with the whirling 
mace had disappeared from his pedestal, and on issuing into 
the open air, they found the two ancient guardians of the 
tower lying dead at the portal, as though they had been 



THE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 31 

crushed by some mighty blow. All nature, which had been 
clear and serene, was now in wild uproar. The heavens were 
darkened by heavy clouds ; loud bursts of thunder rent the air, 
and the earth was deluged -with rain and ratthng hail. 

The king ordered that the iron portal should be closed, but 
the door was immovable, and the cavaliers were dismayed by 
the tremendous turmoil and the mingled shouts and groans 
that continued to prevail within. The king and his train hast- 
ened back to Toledo, pui-sued and pelted by the tempest. The 
mountains shook and echoed with the thunder, trees were up- 
rooted and blown down, and the Tagus raged and roared and 
flowed above its banks. It seemed to the affrighted courtiers as 
if the phantom legions of the tower had issued forth and min- 
gled with the storm ; for amidst the claps of thunder and the 
howhng of the wind, they fancied they heard the sound of the 
drums and trumpets, the shouts of armies, and the rush of 
steeds. Thus beaten by tempest and overwhelmed with 
horror, the king and his courtiers arrived at Toledo, clattering 
across the bridge of the Tagus, and entering the gate in head- 
long confusion as though they had been pursued by an enemy. 

In the morning the heavens were again serene, and all nature 
was restored to tranquilhty. The king, therefore, issued forth 
with his cavaHers, and took the road to the tower, followed by 
a great multitude, for he was anxious once more to close the 
iron door, and shut up those evils that threatened to overwhelm 
the land. But lo! on coming in sight of the tower, a new 
wonder met their eyes. An eagle appeared high in the air, 
seemmg to descend from heaven. He bore in his beak a burn- 
ing brand, and lighting on the summit of the tower, fanned 
the fire with his wings. In a Httle while the edifice bm-st forth 
into a blaze as though it had been built of rosiu, and the flames 
mounted into the air with a brilliancy more dazzUng than the 
sun ; nor did they cease until every stone was consumed and 
the whole was reduced to a heap of ashes. Then there came a 
vast flight of birds, small of size and sable of hue, darkening 
the sky like a cloud; and they descended and wheeled in 
circles round the ashes, causing so great a wind with their 
wings that the whole was borne up into the air, and scattered 
throughout all Spain, and wherever a particle of that ashes fell 
it was as a stain of blood. It is furthermore recorded by 
ancient men and writers of former days, that all those on 
whom this dust fell were afterwards slain in battle, when the 
country was conquered by the Arabs, and that the destruction 



32 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

of tliLs necromantic tower was a sign and token of the ai>^ 
proaching perdition of Spain. 

"Let all those," concludes the cautious friar, " who question 
the verity of this most marvellous occurrence, consult those 
admirable sources of our history, the chronicle of the Moor 
Rasis, and the work entitled, The Fall of Spain, written by the 
Moor Abulcasuxi Tarif Abentarique. Let them consult, more- 
over, the venerable historian Bleda, and the cloud of other 
Cathohc Spanish writers who have treated of this event, and 
they wOl find I have related notliing that has not been printed 
and published under the inspection and sanction of om- holy 
mother church. God alone knoweth the truth of these things ; 
I speak nothing but what has been handed down to me from 
times of old." 



CHAPTER VIIL 



COUNT JULIAN — HIS FORTUNES IN AFRICA.— HE HEARS OP THE 
DISHONOUR OP HIS CHILD — HIS CONDUCT THEREUPON. 

The course of our legendary narration now returns to notice 
the fortunes of Count Julian, after his departure from Toledo, 
to resume his government on the coast of Barbary. He left 
the Countess Frandina at Algeziras, his paternal domain, for 
the province under his command was threatened with inva- 
sion. In fact, when he arrived at Ceuta he found liis post 
in imminent danger from the all-conquering Moslems. The 
Arabs of the east, the followers of Mahomet, having subjugated 
several of the most potent oriental kingdoms, had estabhshed 
their seat of empire at Damascus, where, at this time, it was 
filled by Waled Almanzor, sumamed "The Sword of Grod.' 
From thence the tide of Moslem conquest had rolled on to the 
shores of the Atlantic, so that all Almagreb, or Western Africa, 
had submitted to the standard of the Prophet, with the ex- 
ception of a portion of Tiagitania, lying along the straits ; being 
the province held by the Goths of Spain, and commanded by 
Count Julian. The Arab invaders were a hundred thousand 
strong, most of them veteran troops, seasoned in warfare and 
accustomed to victory. They were led by an old Arab Gen- 
eral, Muza ben Nosier, to whom was confided the government 
of Almagreb ; most of which he had himself conquered. The 



THE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 3f-J 

ambition of this veteran was to make the Moslem conquest 
complete, by expelling the Christians from the African shores; 
with this view his troops menaced the few remaining Gothic 
fortresses of Tingitania, while he himself sat down in person 
before the waUs of Ceuta. The Arab chieftain had been ren- 
dered confident by continual success, and thought nothing 
could resist his arms and the sacred standard of the Prophet. 
Impatient of the tedious delays of a siege, he led his troops 
boldly against the rock-built to vvers of Ceuta, and attempted 
to take the place by storm. The onset was fierce, and the 
struggle desperate ; the swarthy sons of the desert were light 
and vigorous, and oC fiery spirit, but the Goths, iniu-ed to 
danger on this ft-ontier, retained the stubborn valom* of their 
race, so impaired among their brethren in Spain. They were 
commanded, too, by one skilled in warfare and ambitious of re- 
noAvn. After a vehement conflict the Moslem assailants were 
repulsed from aU points, and driven from the walls. Don 
Juhan sallied forth and harassed them in their retreat, and so 
severe was the carnage that the veteran Muza was fain to 
break up his camp and retire confounded from the siege. 

The victory at Ceuta resounded throughout Tingitania, and 
spread imiversal joy. On every side were heard shouts of 
exultation mingled with praises of Count Julian. He was 
hailed by the people, wherever he went, as their dehverer, and 
blessings were invoked upon his head. The heart of Count 
Juhan was Uf ted up, and his spirit swelled within him ; but it 
was with noble and virtuous pride, for he was conscious of 
having merited the blessings of his country. 

In the midst of his exultation, and while the rejoicings of 
the people were yet sounding in his ears, the page arrived who 
boi'e the letter from his unfortunate daughter. 

"What tidings from the king?" said the count, as the page 
knelt before him. " None, my lord, " replied the youth ; * ' but I 
bear a letter sent in all haste by the Lady Florinda." 

He took the letter from his bosom and presented it to his 
lord. As Count Julian read it his countenance darkened and 
fell. "This," said he, bitterly, "is my reward for serving a 
tyrant ; and tliese are the honours heaped on me by my country 
while fighting its battles in a foreign land. May evil overtake 
me, and infamy rest upon my name, if I cease xmtil I have fuU 
measure of revenge." 

Count Julian was vehement in his passions, and took no 
counsel in his wrath. His spirit was haughty in the extreme, 



34 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

but destitute of ti-ue magnanimity, and when once wounded., 
turned to gall and venom. A dark and malignant hatred en- 
tered into his soul, not only against Don Roderick, but against 
all Spain ; he looked upon it as the scene of his disgrace, a land 
in which his family was dishonoured, and, in seeking to avenge 
the wrongs he had suffered from his sovereign, he meditated 
against his native country one of the blackest schemes of 
treason that ever entered into the human heart. 

The plan of Count Juhan was to hurl King Roderick from 
his throne, and to deliver all Spain into the hands of the infi- 
dels. In concerting and executing this treacherous plot, it 
seemed as if his whole nature was changed ; every lofty and 
generous sentiment was stifled, and he stooped to the meanest 
dissimulation. His first object was, to extricate his family 
from the power of the king, and to remove it from Spain before 
his treason should be known ; his next, to deprive the coimtry 
of its remaining means of defence against an invader. 

With these dark purposes at heart, but with an open and 
serene countenance, he crossed to Spain and repaired to the 
court at Toledo. Wherever he came he was hailed with accla- 
mation, as a victorious general, and appeared in the presence 
of his sovereign radiant with the victory at Ceuta. Conceal- 
ing from King Roderick his knowledge of the outrage upon his 
house, he professed nothing but the most devoted loyalty and 
affection. 

The king loaded him with favours; seeking to appease his 
own conscience by heaping honours upon the father in atone- 
ment of the deadly wrong inflicted upon his child. He re- 
garded Count Jiilian, also, as a man able and experienced in 
warfare, and took his advice in all matters relating to the 
military affairs of the kingdom. The count magnified the 
dangers that threatened the frontier under liis command, and 
prevailed upon the king to send thither the best horses and 
arms remaining from the time of Witiza, there being no need 
of them in the centre of Spain, in its present tranquQ state. 
The residue, at his suggestion, was stationed on the frontier 
of Gallia; so that the kingdom was left almost wholly with- 
out defence against any sudden irruption from the south. 

Having thus artfully arranged his plans, and all things being 
prepared for his return to Africa, he obtained permission to 
withdraw his daughter from the court, and leave her with her 
mother, the Countess Frandina, who, he pretended, lay (dan- 
gerously ill at Algeziras. Count Julian issued out of the gate 



THE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 35 

of the city, followed by a shiiii- g band of chosen followers, 
while beside hiin, ou a palfrey, rode the pale and weeping 
Florinda. The populace hailed and blessed hir-^. as he passed, 
but his heart tuined froro them with loatMug. As he crossed 
the bridge of the Tagus he looked back with a dark brow upon 
Toledo, and raised his mailed hand and shook it at the royal 
palace of King Roderick, which crested the rocky height. ' ' A 
father's curse, " said he, ' ' be upon thee and thine I may deso- 
lation fall upon thy dwelling, and confusion and defeat upon 
thy realm!' 

In his journevings through the country, he looked round 
him with a malignant eye : the pipe of the shepherd, a:id the 
song of the husbandman, were as discord to his soul ; every 
sight and sound of human happiness sickened him at heart ; 
and, in the bitterness of his spirit, he prayed that he might 
se*" tbf whol(i scene of prosperity laid waste with fire and 
sword by the invade. 

The story of domestic outrage and disgrace had already 
been made known to the Countess Frandina. When the hap- 
less Florinda came in presence of her mother, she fell on her 
neck, and hid her face in her bosom, and wept; but the 
countess shed never a tear, for she was a woman haughty of 
spirit and strong of heart She looked her husband sternly in 
tb Pi face. "Perdition hght upon thy head," said she, "if thou 
submit to this dishonour. For my own part, woman as I am, 
I wUl assemble tlie followers of my house, nor rest until rivers 
of blood have washed away this stain." 

"Be satisfied.' replied the count; " vengeance is on foot, and 
wili be sure and ample." 

Being now in his own doinains, surrounded by his relatives 
and friends. Count Juhan went on to complete his web of 
treason. In this he was aided by his brother-in-law, Oppas. 
the bishop of Seville : a dark man and perfidious as the night, 
but devout in demeanour, and smooth and plausible in council. 
This artful prelate had contrived to work himself into the 
entire confidence of the king, and had even prevailed upon 
him to permit his nephcAvs, Evan and Siseburto, the exiled 
sons of Witiza, to return into Spain. They resided in Andalu- 
sia, and were now looked to as fit mstrimtients in the present 
traitorous conspiracy. 

By the advice of the bishop, Count Julian called a secret 
meeting of his relatives and adherents on a wild rocky moun- 
tain, not far from Consuegra, and which still beai'S the Moor- 



36 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

ish appellation of "La Sierra de Calderin," or the mountain of 
treason.* When aU were assembled, Count Julian appeared 
among them, accompanied by the bishop and by the Countess 
Frandina. Then gathering around him those who were of Ms 
blood and kindred, he revealed the outrage that had been 
offered to their house. He represented to them that Eoderick 
was their legitimate enemy; that he had dethroned Witiza, 
their relation, and had now stained the honour of one of the 
most illustrious daughters of their line. The Countess Fran- 
dina seconded his words. She was a woman majestic in 
person and eloquent of tongue, and being inspu-ed by a 
mother's feehngs, her speech aroused the assembled cavaliers 
to fury. 

The count took advantage of the excitement of the moment 
to unfold his plan. The main object was to dethrone Don 
Eoderick, and give the crown to the sons of the late King 
Witiza. By this means they would visit the sins of the tyrant 
upon his head, and, at the same time, restore the regal honours 
to their line. For this purpose their own force would be in- 
sufficient, but they might procure the aid of Muza ben Nosier, 
the Arabian general, in Mamitania, who would, no doubt, 
gladly send a part of his troops into Spain to assist ia the 
enterprise. 

The plot thus suggested by Coimt Julian received the un- 
holy sanction of Bishop Oppas, who engaged to aid it secretly 
with all his influence and means ; for he had great wealth and 
possessions, and many retainers. The example of the reverend 
prelate determined all who might otherwise have wavered, 
and they bound themselves by dreadful oaths to be true to the 
conspiracy. Count Julian undertook to proceed to Africa, 
and seek the camp of Muza, to negotiate for his aid, while the 
bishop was to keep about the person of King Roderick, and 
lead him into the net prepared for him. 

All things being thus arranged. Count Juhan gathered to- 
gether his treasure, and taking his wife and daughter and all 
his household, abandoned the country he meant to betray; 
embarking at Malaga for Ceuta. The gate of the wall of that 
city, through which they went forth, contiaued for ages to 
bear the name of Puerta de la Cava, or the gate of the harlot ; 
for such was the opprobrious and unmerited appellation be- 
stowed by the Moors on the unhappy Florinda.f 

* Bleda, cap. 5. . t Idem., cap. 4 



THE LEGEND OF DON BODEBIUK. 37 



CHAPTER IX. 

SECRET VISIT OF COUNT JULIAN TO THE ARAB CAMP— FIRST 
EXPEDITION OF TARIC EL TUERTO. 

When Count Julian had placed his family in security in 
Ceuta, surrounded by soldiery devoted to his fortunes, he took 
with him a few confidential followers, and departed in secret 
for the camp of the Arabian Emir, Muza ben Nosier. The 
camp was spread out in one of those pastoral valleys which Ue 
at the feet of the Barbary hills, with the great range of the 
Atlas mountains towering in the distance. In the motley 
army here assembled were warriors of every tribe and nation, 
that had been united by pact or conquest in the cause of Islam. 
There were those who had followed Muza from the fertile re- 
gions of Egypt, across the deserts of Barca, and those who had 
joined his standard from among the sun-burnt tribes of Mauri- 
tania. These were Saracen and Tartar, Syrian and Copt, and 
swarthy Moor ; sumptuous warriors from the civilized cities of 
the east, and the gaunt and predatory rovers of the desert. 
The greater part of the army, however, was composed of 
Arabs ; but differing greatly from the first rude hordes that 
enlisted under the banner of Mahomet. Almost a century of 
continual wars with the cultivated nations of the east had 
rendered them accomphshed warriors ; and the occasional so- 
journ in luxurious countries and populous cities, had acquaint- 
ed them with the arts and habits of civihzed life. StiU the 
roving, restless, and predatory habits of the genuine son of 
Ishmael prevailed, in defiance of every change of clime or 
situation. 

Count Julian f oimd the Arab conqueror Muza surrounded by 
somewhat or oiiental state and splendoiu*. He was advanced 
in hie, but of a noble presence, and concealed his age by ting- 
ing his hair and beard with henna. The count assumed an air 
of soldier-like frankness and decision when he came into his 
presence. "Hitherto," said he. "we have been enemies; but I 
come to thee in peace, and it rests with thee to make me the 
most devoted of thy friends. I have no longer country or king. 
Roderick the Goth is an usurper, and my deadly foe ; he has 
wounded my honour in the tenderest point, and my country 
affords me no redress. Aid me in my vengeance, and I will 



38 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

deliver all Spain into thy hands ; a land far exceeding in fer- 
tility and wealth all the vaunted regions thou hast conquered 
in Tingitania." 

The heart of Muza leaped with joy at these Avords, for he was 
a bold and ambitious conqueror, and, having overrun all west- 
ern Africa, had often cast a wistful eye to the mountains of 
Spain, as he beheld them brightening beyond the waters of the 
strait. Still he possessed the caution of a veteran, and feared 
to engage in an enterprise of such moment, and to carry his 
arms into another division of the globe, without the approba- 
tion of his sovereign. Having drawn from Count Julian the 
particulars of his plan, and of the means he possessed to carry 
it into effect, he laid them before his confidential counsellors 
and officers, and demanded their opinion. ' ' These words of 
Count Julian," said he, "may be false and deceitful; or he 
may not possess the power to fulfil his promises. The whole 
may be a pretended treason to draw us on to our destruction. 
It is more natural that he should be treacherous to us than to 
his country." 

Among the generals of Muza, was a gaunt swarthy veteran, 
scarred with wounds ; a very Arab, whose great delight was 
roving and desperate enterprise, and who cared for nothing be- 
yond his steed, liis lance, and scimitar. He was a native of 
Damascus : his name was Taric ben Zeyad, but, from having 
lost an eye, he was known among the Spaniaids by the appel- 
lation of Taric el Tuerto, or Taric, the one-eyed. 

The hot blood of this veteran Ishmaelite was in a ferment 
when he heard of a new country to invade, and vast regions to 
subdue, and he dreaded lest the cautious hesitation of Muza 
should permit the glorious prize to escape them. ' ' You speak 
doubtingly," said he, "of the words of this Cliristian cavaher, 
but their truth is easily to be ascertained. Give me four gal- 
leys and a handful of men, and I will depart with this Count 
Julian, skirt the Christian coast, and bring thee back tidings of 
the land, and of his means to put it in our poAver." 

The words of the veteran pleased Muza ben Nosier, and he 
gave his consent ; and Taric departed with four galleys and 
five hundred men, guided by the traitor Julian.* This first 
expedition of the Arabs against Spain took place, according to 
certain historians, in the year of our Lord seven hundred and 



* Beuter, Cron. Gen. de Espana, L. 1, c. 28. Marmol. Descrip. de Africa, L. 
2, c. 10. 



- THE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 39 

twelve ; though others differ on this point, as indeed they do 
upon almost every point in this early period of Spanish history. 
The date to which the judicious chi'oniclers incline, is that of 
seven hundred and ten, in the month of July. It would appear 
from some authorities, also, that the galleys of Taric cruised 
along the coasts of Andalusia and Lusitania, under the feigned 
character of merchant bai'ks, nor is this at all improbable, 
while they were seeking merely to observe the land, and get a 
knowledge of the harbours. Wherever they touched, Count 
Julian despatched emissaries to assemble his friends and ad- 
herents at an appointed place. They gathered together secretly 
at Gezira Alhadra, that is to say, the Green Island, where they 
held a conference with Count Julian in presence of Taric ben 
Zeyad.* Here they again avowed their readiness to flock to 
his standard whenever it should be openly raised, and made 
known their various preparations for a rebellion. Taric was 
convinced, by all that he had seen and heard, that Coimt 
Julian had not deceived them, either as to his disposition or 
his means to betray his country. Indulging his Arab inclina- 
tions, he made an inroad into the land, collected great spoil 
and many captives, and bore off his plunder in triumph to 
Muza, as a specimen of the riches to be gained by the conquest 
of the Christian land.f 



CHAPTER X. 



LETTER OF MUZA TO THE CALIPH— SECOND EXPEDITION OF TARIC 

EL TUERTO. 

On hearing the tidings brought by Taric ei Tuerto, and be- 
holding the spoil he had collected, Muza wrote a letter to the 
Caliph Waled Almanzor, setting forth the traitorous proffer of 
Count Juhan, and the probabUity, through his means, of mak- 
ing a successful invasion of Spain. "Anew land," said he, 
"spreads itself out before our dehghted eyes, and invites our 
conquest. A land, too, that equals Syria in the fertihty of its 
soil, and the serenity of its sky ; Yemen, or Arabia the happy, 
in its deUghtful temperature ; India in its flowers and spices ; 
Hegiaz in its fruits and flowers ; Cathay in its precious min- 
erals, and Aden in the excellence of its ports and harbours. It 

* Bleda, Cron. c. 5. t Conde, Hist. Dom Arab, part 1, c. 8. 



40 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

is populous also, and wealthy; having many splendid cities and 
majestic monimients of ancient art. What is to prevent this 
glorious land from becoming the inheritance of the faitlifulf 
Ah-eady we have overcome the tribes of Berbery, of Zab, of 
Derar, of Zaara, Mazamuda and Sus, and the victorious stand- 
ard of Islam floats on the towers of Tangier. But four leagues 
of sea separate us from the opposite coast. One word from my 
sovereign, and the conquerors of Africa will pour their legions 
into Andalusia, rescue it from the domination of the unbehever, 
and subdue it to the law of the Koran." * 

The caHph was overjoyed with the contents of the letter. 
" God is great !" exclaimed he, "and Mahomet is his prophet! 
K has been foretold by the ambassador of God that his law 
should extend to the ultimate parts of the west, and be carried 
by the sword into new and unknown regions. Behold another 
land is opened for the triumphs of the faithful. It is the will 
of AUah, and be his sovereign will obeyed." So the caliph 
sent missives to Muza, authorizing hun to undertake the con- 
quest. 

Upon this there was a great stir of preparation, and numer- 
ous vessels were assembled and equipped at Tangier to convey 
the invading army across the straits. Twelve thousand men 
were chosen for this expedition : most of them hght Arabian 
troops, seasoned in warfare, and fitted for hardy and rapid en- 
terprise. Among them were many horsemen, mounted on fleet 
Arabian steeds. The whole Avas put under the command of the 
veteran Taric el Tuerto, or the one-eyed, in whom Muza re- 
posed implicit confidence as in a second self. Taric accepted 
the command Avith joy ; his martial fire was roused at the idea 
of having such an army under his sole command, and such a 
country to overrun, and he secretly determined never to return 
unless victorious. 

He chose a dark night to convey his troops across the straits 
of Hercules, and by break of day they began to disembark at 
Tarifa before the country had time to take the alarm. A few 
christians hastily assembled from the neighbourhood and op- 
posed their landing, but were easily put to flight. Taric stood 
on the sea-side, and watched until the last squadron had 
landed, and aU the horses, armour, and munitions of war, 
were brought on shore ; he then gave orders to set fire to the 
ships. The Moslems were struck with terror when they be- 

* Conde, part 1, c. 8. 



THE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 41 

held their fleet wrapped in flames and smoke, and sinking 
beneath the -waves. "How shall we escape, " exclaimed they, 
"if the fortune of war should be against us?" " There is no 
escape for the coward !" cried Taric, " the brave man thinks of 
none; your only chance is victory." " But how without ships 
shall we ever return to our homes V" "Your home," replied 
Taric, "is before you; but you must win it with your swords." 

While Taric was yet talking with his followers, says one of 
the ancient chroniclers, a Christian female was descried wav- 
ing a white pennon on a reed, ia signal of peace. On being 
brought into the presence of Taric, she prostrated herself be- 
fore him. " Senor," said she, " I am an ancient woman; and 
it is now full sixty years past and gone since, as I was keeping 
vigils one winter's night by the fireside, I heard my father, 
who was an exceeding old man, read a prophecy said to have 
been written by a holy friar ; and this was the purport of the 
prophecy, tiiat a time would arrive when our country would 
be invaded and conquered by a people from Africa of a strange 
garb, a strange tongue, and a strange religion. They were to 
be led by a strong and vahant captain, who would be knoAvn 
by these signs: on his right shoulder he would have a hairy 
mole, and his right arm would be much longer than the left, 
and of such length as to enable him to cover his knee with his 
hand without bending his body." 

Taric hstened to the old beldame with grave attention, and 
when she had concluded, he laid bare his shoulder, and lo! 
there was the mole as it had been described; his right arm, 
also, was in verity found to exceed the other in length, though 
not to the degi-ee that had been mentioned. Upon this the 
Arab host shouted for joy, and felt assured of conquest. 

The discreet Antonio Agapida, though he records this cir- 
cumstance as it is set down in ancient chronicle, yet withholds 
his belief from the pretended prophecy, considering the whole 
a cunning device of Taric to mcrcase the coui^^ge of his troops. 
" Doubtless," says he, " there was a collusion between this an- . 
cient sibyl and the crafty son of Ishmael; for these infidel 
leaders were full of damnable inventions to work upon the su- 
perstitious fancies of their followers, and to inspire them with 
a bhnd confidence in the success of their arms." 

Be this as it may, the veteran Taric took advantage of the 
excitement of his soldiery, and led them forward to gain pos- 
session of a strong-hold, which was, in a manner, the key to 
all the adjacent country. This was a lofty mountain or pro- 



42 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN, 

montory almost surrounded by the sea, and connected with 
the niEun land by a narrow isthmus. It was called the rock 
of Calpe, and, like the opposite roci< of Ceuta, commanded the 
entrance to the Mediterranean Sea. Here in old times, Her- 
cules had set up one of his T)Lllars, and the city of Heraclea had 
been built. 

As Taric advanced against this promontory, he was opposed 
by a hasty levy of the Cliristians, who had assembled under 
the banner of a Gothic noble of great power and importance, 
whose domains lay along the mountainous coast of the Medi- 
terranean. The name of this Christian cavalier was Theodo- 
mir, but he has universally been called Tadmir by the Arabian 
historians, and is renowned as being the first commander that 
made any stand against the inroad of the Moslems. He was 
about forty years of age ; hardy, prompt, and sagacious ; and 
had all the Gothic nobles been equally vigilant and shrewd in 
their defence, the banner of Islam would never have triumphed 
over the land, 

Theodomir had but seventeen himdred men under his com- 
mand, and these but rudely armed; yet he made a resolute 
stand against the army of Taric, and defended the pass to the 
promontory with great valour. He was at length obliged to 
retreat, and Taric advanced and planted his standard on the 
rock of Calpe, and fortified it as his strong-hold, and as the 
means of securing an entrance into the land. To commemo- 
rate his first victory, he changed the name of the promontory, 
and called it Gibel Taric, or the Mountain of Tarib, but iia pro- 
cess of time the name has gradually been altered to Gibraltar. 

In the meantime, the patriotic chieftain Theodomir, having 
collected his routed forces, encamped with them on the skirts 
of the mountains, and summoned the country round to join his 
standard. He sent off missives in all speed to the king, im- 
parting in brief and blunt terms the news of the invasion, and 
craving assistance with equal frankness. "Seiior," said he, 
in his letter, " the legions of Africa are upon us, but whether 
they come from heaven or earth I know not. They seem to 
have fallen from the clouds, for they have no ships. We have 
been taken by surprise, overpowered by numbers, and obUged 
to retreat ; and they have fortified themselves in our territory. 
Send us aid, seiior, with instant speed, or rather, come your- 
self to our assistance." * 

* Conde, part i, c. 9. 



THE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 43 



CHAPTER XI. 

MEASURES OF DON RODERICK ON HEARING OF THE INVASION-- 
EXPEDITION OF ATAULPHO— VISION OF TARIC. 

When Don Eoderick heard that legions of turbaned troops 
had poured into the land from Africa, he called to mind the 
visions and predictions of the necromantic tower, and great fear 
came upon him. But, though sunk from his former hardihood 
and virtue, though enervated by indulgence, and degraded in 
spirit by a consciousness of crime, he was resolute of soul, and 
roused himself to meet the coming danger. He summoned a 
hasty levy of horse and foot, amoimting to forty thousand; 
but now were felt the effects of the crafty counsel of Count 
Julian, for the best of the horses and armour intended for the 
public service, had been sent into Africa, and were really in 
possession of the traitors. Many nobles, it is true, took the 
field with the sumptuous array with which they had been ac- 
customed to appear at tournaments and jousts, but most of 
their vassals were destitute of weapons, and cased in cuirasses 
of leather, or suits of armour almost consumed by rust. They 
were without discipline or animation; and their horses, like 
themselves, pampered by slothful peace, were httle fitted to 
bear the heat, the dust, and toil of long campaigns. 

This army Don Roderick put under the command of his kins- 
man Ataulpho, a prince of the royal blood of the Goths, and of 
* noble and generous nature ; and he ordered him to max-ch 
tvith all speed to meet the foe, and to recruit his forces on the 
way with the troops of Theodomir. 

In the meantime, Taric el Tuerto had received large rein- 
forcements from Africa, and the adherents of Count Julian, 
and aU those discontented with the sway of Don Roderick, had 
flocked to his standard ; for many were deceived by the repre- 
sentations of Count Juhan, and thought that the Arabs had 
come to aid him in placing the sons of Witiza upon the thi-one. 
Guided by the count, the troops of Taric penetrated into vari- 
ous parts of the country, and laid waste the land ; bringing 
back loads of spoil to their strong-hold at the rock of Calpe. 

The Prince Ataulpho marched with his army through Anda- 
lusia, and was joined by Theodomir with his troops ; he met 
with various detachments of the enemy foraging the country, 
and had several bloody skirmishes ; but he succeeded in driv- 



44 LEGENDS OF TUE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

ing them before him, and they retreated to the rock of Calpe, 
where Taric lay gathered up with the niain body of his army. 

The prince encamped not far from the bay which spreads it- 
seK out before the promontory. In the evening he despatched 
the veteran Theodomir, with a trumpet, to demand a parley of 
the Arab chieftain, who received the envoy in liis tent, sur- 
rounded by his captains. Theodomir was frank and abrupt in 
speech, for the most of his life had been passed far from coiu'ts. 
He dehvered, in round terms, the message of the Prince Ataul- 
pho ; upbraiding the Arab general with his wanton invasion of 
the land, and summoning him to surrender his army or to ex- 
pect no mercy. 

The single eye of Taric el Tuerto glowed hke a coal of fire at 
this message. "Tell your connnander," replied he, "that I 
have crossed the strait to conquer Spain, nor will I return un- 
til I have accomplished my purpose. Tell him I have men 
skilled in war, and armed in proof, with whose aid I trust soon 
to give a good account of his rabble host." 

A murmur of applause passed through the assemblage of 
Moslem captains. Theodomir glanced on them a look of defi- 
ance, but his eye rested on a renegado Christian, one of Ms own 
ancient comrades, and a relation of Count Julian. "As to 
you, Don Gray beard," said he, "you who turn apostate in 
yom' declining age, I here pronounce you a traitor to your 
God, your king, and coimtry ; and stand ready to prove it tliis 
instant upon your body, if field be granted me." 

The traitor knight was stung with rage at these words, for 
truth rendered them piercing to the heart. He would have 
immediately answered to the challenge, but Taric forbade it, 
and ordered that the Christian envoy should be conducted from 
the camp. "'Tis well," rephed Theodomir; "God will give 
me the field which you deny. Let yon hoary apostate look to 
himself to-morrow in the battle, for I pledge myself to use my 
lance upon no other foe until it has shed his blood upon the 
native soil he has betrayed." So saying, he left the camp, nor 
cotild the Moslem chieftains help admiring the honest mdigna- 
tion of this patriot knight, while they secretly despised his 
renagado adversary. 

The ancient Moorish chroniclers relate many awful portents, 
and strange and mysterious visions, which appeared to the 
commanders of either army during this anxious night. Cer- 
tainly it was a night of fearful suspense, and Moslem and Chris- 
tian looked forward with doubt to the fortune of the coming 



TEE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 45 

day. Tlie Spanish sentinel walked his pensive round, listen- 
ing occasionally to the vague sounds from the distant rock of 
Calpe, and eyeing it as the mariner eyes the thunder-cloud, 
pregnant Avith terror and destruction. The Arabs, too, from 
their lofty chffs beheld the nmnerous camp-iires of the Chi-is- 
tians gradually hghted up, and saw that they were a powerful 
host ; at the same time the night breeze brought to their ears 
the sullen roar of the sea which separated them from Africa. 
When they considered their perilous situation, an army on one 
side, with a whole nation aroused to reinforce it, and on the 
other an impassable sea, the spu-its of many of the warriors 
were cast down, and they repented the day when they had 
ventured into this hostile land. 

Taric marked their despondency, but said nothing. Scarce 
had the first streak of morning hght trembled along the sea, 
however, when he summoned his principal warriors to his 
tent. " Be of good cheer," said he; "Allah is with us, and has 
sent his Prophet to give assurance of his aid. Scarce had I re- 
tired to my tent last night, when a man of a majestic and vener- 
able presence stood before me. He was taller by a palm than 
the ordinary race of men, his flowing beard was of a golden 
hue, and his eyes were so bright that they seemed to send forth 
flashes of fire. I have heard the Emir Bahamet, and other an- 
cient men, describe the Prophet, whom they had seen many 
times while on earth, and such was his form and lineament. 
'Fear nothing, O Taric, from the morrow,' said he; 'I will be 
with thee in the fight. Strike boldly, then, and conquer. 
Those of thy followers who survive the battle will have this 
land for an inheritance ; for those who fall, a mansion in para- 
dise is prepared, and immortal houris await their coming.' He 
spake and vanished ; I heard a strain of celestial melody, and 
my tent was filled with the odours of Arabia the happy." 
"Such," say the Spanish chroniclers, "was another of the 
arts by which this arch son of Ishmael sought to animate the 
hearts of his followers; and the pretended vision has been re- 
corded by the Arabian writers as a veritable occurrence. Mar- 
vellous, indeed, was the effect produced by it upon the infidel 
soldiery, who now cried out with eagerness to be led against 
the foe." 



4G LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

CHAPTEE XII. 

BATTLE OF CALPE — FATE OF ATAULPHO. 

The gray summits of the rock of Calpe brightened with the 
first rays of morning, as the Christian army issued forth from 
its encampment. The Prince Ataulpho rode from squadron 
to squadron, animatmg his soldiers for the battle. " Never 
should we sheath our swords," said he, "while these infidels 
have a footing in the land. They are pent up within yon rocky 
mountain; we must assaU them in their rugged hold. We 
have a long day before us ; let not the settmg sun shine upon 
one of their host who is not a fugitive, a captive, or a corpse." 

The words of the prince were I'eceived with shouts, and the 
army moved towards the promontory. As they advanced, 
they heard the clash of cymbals and the bray of trumpets, and 
the rocky bosom of the mountain glittered with helms and 
spears and scimitars ; for the Arabs, inspired with fresh confi- 
dence by the words of Taric, were sallying forth, with flaunt- 
ing banners, to the combat. 

The gaunt Arab chieftain stood upon a rock as his troops 
marched by ; his buckler was at his back, and he brandished 
in his hand a double-pointed spear. Calling upon the several 
leaders by their names, he exhorted them to direct their at- 
tacks against the Christian captains, and especially against 
Ataulpho; "for the chiefs being slain," said he, " their follow- 
ers wdl vanish from before us like the morning mist. " 

The Gothic nobles were easily to be distinguished by the 
splendour of their arms, but the Prince Ataulpho was con- 
spicuous above all the rest for the youthful grace and majesty 
of his appearance, and the bravery of his array. He was 
mounted on a superb Andalusian charger, richly caparisoned 
with crimson velvet, embroidered with gold. His surcoat was 
of like colour and adornment, and the plumes that waved 
above his burnished helmet were of the purest white. Ten 
mounted pages, magnificently attired, followed him to the field 
but their duty was not so much to fight as to attend upon their 
lord, and to furnish him with steed or weapon. 

The Christian troops, though ii*regular and undisciplined, 
were full of native courage ; for the old warrior spirit of their 
Gothic sires still glowed in their bosoms. There were two bat- 
talions of infantry, but Ataulpho stationed them in the rear; 



THE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 47 

"for God forbid," said he, " that foot-soldiers should have the 
place of honour in the battle, when I have so many valiant 
eavahers." As the armies drew nigh to each other, however, 
it was discovered that the advance of the Arabs was com- 
posed of infantry. Upon this the eavahers checked their 
steeds, and requested that the foot-soldiery might advance 
and disperse this losel crew, holding it beneath their dignity 
to contend with pedestrian foes. The prince, however, com- 
manded them to charge ; upon which, putting spurs to their 
steeds, they rushed upon the foe. 

The Arabs stood the shock manfully, receiving the horses 
upon the points of their lances; many of the riders were shot 
down with bolts from cross-bows, or stabbed with the poniards 
of the Moslems. The eavahers succeeded, however, in break- 
ing into the midst of the battahon and throwing it into con- 
fusion, cutting down some with their swords, transpiercing 
others with their spears, and trampling many under the hoofs 
of their horses. At this moment, they were attacked by a 
band of Spanish horsemen, the recreant partisans of Count 
Julian. Their assault bore hard upon their countrymen, who 
were disordered by the contest with the foot-soldiers, and 
many a loyal Christian knight fell beneath the sword of an 
unnatural foe. 

The foremost among these recreant warriors was the rene- 
gade cavaher whom Theodomir had challenged in the tent of 
Taric. He dealt his blows about him with a powerful arm and 
with malignant fury, for notliing is more deadly than the 
hatred of an apostate. In the midst of his career he was 
espied by the hardy Theodomir, who came spurring to the 
encounter. "Traitor," cried he," "I have kept my vow. This 
lance has been held sacred from all other foes to make a pas- 
sage for thy perjured soul." The renegade had been renowned 
for prowess before he became a traitor to his country, but guilt 
will sap the courage of the stoutest heart. When he beheld 
Theodomir rushing upon him, he would have turned and fled ; 
pride alone withheld him; and, though an admirable master 
of defence, he lost all skill to ward the attack of his adversary. 
At the first assault the lance of Theodomir pierced him through 
and through ; he fell to the earth, gnashed his teeth as he rolled 
in the dust, but yielded his breath without uttei-uag a word. 

The battle now became general, and lasted throughout the 
morning with varying success. The stratagem of Taric, how- 
ever, began to .produce its effect. The Christian leaders and 



48 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

most conspicuous cavaliers were singled out and severally* 
assailed by overpowering numbers. They fought desperately, 
and performed miracles of prowess, but fell, one by one, oe- 
neath a thousand wounds. StUl the battle hngered on through- 
out a great part of the day, and as the declining sun shone 
through the clouds of dust, it seemed as if the confhcting hosts 
were wrapped in smoke and fire. 

The Prince Ataulpho saw that the fortune of battle was 
against him. He rode about the field calling out the names 
of the bravest of his knights, but few answered to his call ; the 
rest lay mangled on the field. With this handful of warriors 
he endeavoured to retrieve the day, when he was assailed by 
Tenderos, a partisan of Count Juhan, at the head of a body of 
recreant Christians. At sight of this new adversary, fire 
flashed from the eyes of the prince, for Tenderos had been 
brought up in his father's palace. "Well dost thou, traitor!" 
cried he, ' ' to attack the son of thy lord, who gave thee bread ; 
thou, who hast betrayed thy country and thy God !" 

So saying, he seized a lance from one of his pages, and 
charged fm-iously upon the apostate; but Tenderos met him 
in mid career, and the lance of the prince was shivered upon 
Ms shield. Ataulpho then grasped his mace, which himg at 
his saddle-bow, and a doubtful fight ensued. Tenderos was 
powerful of fame and superior in the use of his weapons, but 
the curse of treason seemed to paralyse his arm. He wounded 
Ataulpho slightly between the greaves of his armour, but the 
prince dealt a blow with liis mace that crushed through helm 
and skull and reached the brains; and Tenderos fell dead to 
earth, his armour ratthng as he fell. 

At the same moment, a jat^elin hurled by an Arab trans- 
pierced the horse of Ataulpho, which sunk beneath him. The 
prince seized the reins of the steed of Tenderos, but the faith- 
ful animal, as though he knew him to be the foe of his late lord, 
reared and plunged and refused to let him mount. The prince, 
however, used him as a shield to ward off the press of foes, 
whUe with his sword he defended himself against those in 
fi-ont of him. Taric ben Zeyad arrived at the scene of con- 
flict, and paused for a moment in admiration of the surpassing 
prowess of the prince; recollecting, however, that his fall 
would be a death-blow to his army, he spurred upon him, 
and wounded him severely with his scimitar. Before he 
could repeat his blow, Theodomir led up a body of Christian 
cavaMers to the rescue, and Taric was parted from his prey bv 



THE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 49 

the tumult of the fight. The prince sank to the earth, covered 
with wouMcls and exhausted by the loss of blood. A faithful 
page drew him from under the hoofs of the horses, and, aided 
by a veteran soldier, an ancient vassal of Ataulpho, conveyed 
him to a short distance from the scene of battle, by the side of 
a small stream that gushed out from among rocks. They 
stanched the blood that flowed from his wounds, and washed 
the dust from his face, and laid him beside the fountain. The 
page sat at his head, and supported it on his knees, and the 
veteran stood at his feet, mth his brow bent and his eyes full 
of sorrow. The prince gradually revived, and opened his eyes. 
"How fares the battle?" said he. "The struggle is hard," 
rephed the soldier, "but the day may yet be ours." 

The prince felt that the hour of his death was at hand, and 
ordered that they should aid him to rise upon his knees. 
They supported him between them, and he prayed fervently 
for a short time, when, finding his strength declining, he 
beckoned the veteran to sit down beside him on the rock. 
Continuing to kneel, he confessed himself to that ancient sol- 
dier, having no priest or friar to perform that office in this 
hour of extremity. When he had so done, he sunk again upon 
the earth and pressed it with his hps, as if he would take a 
fond farewell of his beloved coimtry. The page would then 
have raised his head, but found that his lord had yielded up 
the ghost. 

A munber of Arab warriors, who came to the fountain to 
slake then' thirst, cut off the head of the prince and bore it in 
triumph to Taric, crying, "Behold the head of the Christian 
leader." Taric immediately ordered that the head should be 
put upon the end of a lance, together with the surcoat of the 
prince, and borne about the field of battle, with the sound of 
trumpets, atabals, and cymbals. 

When the Christians beheld the surcoat, and knew the fea- 
tures of the prince, they were struck with horror, and heart 
and hand failed them. Theodomir endeavoured in vain to 
rally them ; they threw by their weapons and fled ; and they 
continued to fly, and the enemy to pursue and slay them, until 
the darkness of the night. The Moslems then returned and 
plundered the Christian camp, where they foimd abimdani 
spoil. 



50 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

TERROR OF THE COUNTRY — RODERICK ROUSES HIMSELF TO ARMS. 

The scattered fugitives of the Christian army spread terror 
throughout the land. The inhabitants of the towns and vil- 
lages gathered around them as they applied at their gates for 
food, or laid themselves down faint and wounded beside the 
public fountains. When they related the tale of their defeat, 
old men shook their heads and groaned, and the women 
uttered cries and lamentations. So strange and unlooked-for 
a calamity filled them with consternation and despair ; for it 
was long since the alarm of war had sounded in their land, and 
this was a warfare that carried chains and slavery, and all 
kinds oi horrors in its train. 

Don Roderick was seated with his beauteous queen, Exilona, 
in the royal palace v/hich crowned the rocky summit of Toledo, 
when the bearer of dl-tidings came galloping over the bridge 
of the Tagus. " What tidings from the army?" demanded the 
king, as the panting messenger was brought into his presence. 
"Tidings of great woe," exclaimed the soldier. "The prince 
has fallen in battle. I saw his head and surcoat upon a Moor- 
ish lance, and the army was overthrown and fled." 

At hearing these words, Roderick covered his face with his 
hands, and for some time sat in silence ; and all his courtiers 
stood mute and aghast, and no one dared to speak a word. In 
that awful space of time passed before his thoughts aU his 
errors and his crimes, and all the evils that had been predicted 
in the necromantic tower. His mind was filled with horror 
and confusion, for the hour of his destruction seemed at hand ; 
but he subdued his agitation by his strong and haughty spirit ; 
and when he uncovered his face no one could read on his brow 
the trouble and agony of his heart. Still every hoiu- brouglit 
fresh tidings of disaster. Messenger after messenger came 
spurring into the city, distracting it with new alarms. The 
infidels, they said, were strengthenmg themselves in the land : 
host after host were pouring in from Afi-ica : the seaboart. of 
Andalusia glittered with spears and soimitai-s. Bands of tur- 
baned horsemen had overrun the plains of Sidonia, even to the 
banks of the Guadiana. Fields were laid waste, towns and 
cities plundered, the inhabitants carried into captivity, and 
the whole country lay in smoking desolation. 



THE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 51 

Eoderick heard all these tidings with an undaimted aspect, 
nor did he ever again betray sign of consternation ; but the 
anxiety of his soul was evident in his warlike preparations. 
He issued orders that every noble and prelate of his kingdom 
should put himself at the head of his retainers and take the 
field, and that every man capable of bearing arms should 
hasten to his standard, bringing whatever horse and mule 
and weapon he possessed; and he appointed the plain of 
Cordova for the place where the army was to assemble. 
Throwing by, then, all the trappings of his late slothful and 
voluptuous life, and arming himself for warlike action, he de- 
parted from Toledo at the head of his guard, composed of the 
flower of the youthful nobility. His queen, Exilona, accom- 
panied him, for she craved permission to remain in one of the 
cities of Andalusia, that she might be near her lord in this 
time of peril. 

Among the first who appeared to hail the arrival of the king 
at Cordova, was the Bishop Oppas, the secret partisan of the 
traitor Juhan. He brought with him his two nephews, Evan 
and Siseburto, the sons of the late king Witiza, and a great 
host of vassals and retainers, all well armed and appointed; 
for they had been furnished by Count Julian with a part of 
the arms sent by the king to Africa. The bishop was smooth 
of tongue, and profound in his hjrpocrisy ; his pretended zeal 
and devotion, and the horror with which he spoke of the 
treachery of his kinsman, imposed upon the credulous spirit 
of the king, and he was readily admitted into his most secret 
councils. 

The alarm of the infidel invasion had spread throughout the 
land, and roused the Gothic valour of the inhabitants. On re- 
ceiving the orders of Roderick, every town and hamlet, every 
mountain and valley, had sent forth its fighting men, and the 
whole coimtry was on the march towards Andalusia. In a lit- 
tle while there were gathered together, on the plain of Cor- 
dova, near fifty thousand horsemen, and a countless host of 
foot-soldiers. The Gothic nobles appeared in burnished ar- 
mour, curiously inlaid and adorned, with chains and jewels ot 
gold, and ornaments of precious stones, and silken scarfs, and 
surcoats of brocade, or velvet richly embroidered; betraying 
the luxury and ostentation into which they had declined from 
the iron hardihood of their warhke sires. As to the common 
people, some had lances and shields and swords and cross- 
bows, but the greater part were unarmed, or pi-ovided nxerely 



52 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

with slings, and clubs studded with nails, and with the iron 
implements of husbandry ; and many had made shields for 
themselves from the doors and windows of their habitations. 
They were a prodigious host, and appeared, say the Arabian ' 
chroniclers, hke an agitated sea ; but, though brave in spirit, 
they possessed no knowledge of warlike art, and were iaeffec- 
tual through lack of ai-ms and discipHne. 

Several of the most ancient and experienced cavaliers, be- 
holding the state of the army, advised Don Roderick to await 
the arrival of more regular troops, wliich were stationed in 
Iberia, Cantabria, and Gallia Gothica; but this counsel was 
strenuously opposed by the Bishop Oppas ; who urged the king 
to march immediately against the infidels. "As yet," said he, 
' ' their number is but hmited, but every day new hosts arrive, 
like flocks of locusts, from Africa. They wiU augment faster 
than we ; they are hving, too, at our expense, and, while we 
pause, both armies are consuming the substance of the land." 

King Eoderick listened to the crafty counsel of the bishop, 
and determined to advance without delay. He movmted his 
war horse, Orelia, and rode among his troops assembled on 
that spacious plain, and wherever he appeared he was received 
with acclamations ; for nothing so arouses the spiiit of the sol- 
dier as to behold his sovereign in arms. He addressed them 
in words calculated to touch their hearts and animate their 
courage. "The Saracens," said he, "are ravaging our land, ' 
and their object is our conquest. Should they prevail, your 
very existence as a nation is at an end. They wiU overturn 
your altars ; trample on the cross ; lay waste your cities ; cany 
off your wives and daughters, and doom yourselves and sons 
to hard and cruel slavery. No safety remains for you but in 
the prowess of your arms. For my own part, as I am your 
king, so will I be your leader, and wUl be the foremost to en- 
counter every toil and danger." 

The soldiery answered their monarch with loud acclama- 
tions, and solemnly pledged themselves to fight to the last 
gasp in defence of their country and their faith. The kiag 
then arranged the order of their march: all those who were 
armed with curiasses and coats of mail were placed in the 
front and rear; the centre of the army was composed of a 
promiscuous throng, without body armour, and but scantUy 
pro\'ided with weapons. 

When they were about to march, the king called to him a 
noble cavaher named Eamiro, and delivering him the royal 



THE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 53 

standard, charged hina to guard it well for the honour of Spain ; 
scarcely, however, had the good knight received it in his hand, 
when he feU dead from his horse, and the staff of the standard 
was broken in twain. Many ancient courtiers who were 
present, looked upon this as an evil omen, and coxmselled the 
king not to set forward on his march that day ; but, disregard- 
ing all augimes and portents, he ordered the royal banner to 
be put upon a lance and gave it in charge of another standard 
bearer: then commandmg the trumpets to be sounded, he de- 
parted at the head of his host to seek the enemy. 

The field where this great army assembled was called, from 
the solemn pledge given by the nobles and the soldiery, El 
campo de la verdad; or, The Field of Truth ; a name, says the 
sage chronicler Abulcasim, which it bears even to the present 
day.* 



CHAPTER XIV. 



MARCH OF THE GOTHIC ARMY — ENCAMPMENT ON THE BANKS OF 
THE GUADALETE— MYSTERIOUS PREDICTIONS OF A PALMER - 
CONDUCT OF PELISTES THEREUPON. 

The hopes of Andalusia revived as this mighty host stretched 
in lengthening lines along its f ertUe plains ; from morn vmtn 
night it continued to pour along, with sound of drum and 
trumpet; it was led on by the proudest nobles and bravest 
cavaliers in the land, and, had it possessed arms and disci- 
pline, might have undertaken the conquest of the world. 

After a few days' march, Don Eoderick arrived ia sight of 
the Moslem army, encamped on the banks of the Guadalete,t 
where that beautiful stream winds through the fertile land of 
Xeres. The infidel host was far inferior in number to the 
Christians, but then it was composed of hardy and dexterous 
troops, seasoned to war, and admirably armed. The camp 
shone gloriously in the setting sun, and resounded with the 
clash of cymbal, the note of the trumpet, and the neighing of 
fiery Arabian steeds. There were swarthy troops from every 



* La Perdida de Espana, caji. 9. Bleda, L. 2, c. 8. 

+ This name was given to it subsequently by the Arabs. It signifies the River of 
Death. Vide Pedraza, Hist. Granad. p. 3. c. 1. 



54 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. I 

nation of the African coast, together with legions from Syria ' 
and Egypt, while the hght Bedouins were careering about the 
adjacent plain. What grieved and incensed the spirits of the 
Christian warriors, however, was to behold, a little apart from \ 
the Moslem host, an encampment of Spanish cavaliers, with 
the banner of Count Juhan waving above their tents. They 
were ten thousand in number, vaUant and hardy men, the most 
experienced of Spanish soldiery, most of them having served t 
in the African wars ; they were well armed and appointed also, " 
with the weapons of which the count had beguiled liis sover- 
eign ; and it was a grievous sight to behold such good soldiers 
arrayed against their country and their faith. 

The Christians pitched their tents about the hour of vespers, 
at a short league distant from the enemy, and remained gazing 
with anxiety and awe upon this barbaric host that had caused ■ 
such terror and desolation in the land : for the first sight of a I 
hostile encampment in a country disused to war, is terrible to 
a newly enlisted soldier. A marvellous occurrence is recorded 
by the Arabian chroniclers as having taken place in the Chris- 
tian camp ; but discreet Spanish writers relate it with much 
modification, and consider it a stratagem of the wily Bishop 
Oppas, to sound the loyalty of the Christian cavahers. j 

As several leaders of the army were seated with the bishop | 
in his tent, conversing on the dubious fortunes of the ap- 
proaching contest, an ancient pilgrim appeared at the en- 
trance. He was bowed down with years, his snowy beard 
descended to his girdle, and he supported his tottering steps 
with a palmer's staff. The cavaliers rose and received him 
with great reverence as he advanced within the tent. Hold- 
ing up his withered hand, "Woe, woe to Spain!" exclaimed 
he, ' ' for the vial of the wrath of Heaven is about to be poured 
out. Listen, warriors, and take warning. Four months since, 
having performed my pUgrimage to the sepulchre of our Lord 
in Palestine, I was on my return towards my native land. 
Wearied and way-worn, I lay down one night to sleep beneath 
a palm tree, by the side of a fountain, when I was awakened 
by a voice saying unto me, in soft accents, ' Son of sorrow, 
why sleepest thou? ' I opened my eyes, and beheld one of fair 
and beauteous countenance, in shinmg apparel, and with glori- 
ous wings, standing by the foimtain ; and I said, ' Who art 
thou, who callest upon me in this deep hour of the night?' 

"'Fear not,' replied the stranger; 'I am an angel from 
heaven, sent to reveal unto thee the fate of thy country. Be- 



THE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 55 

hold, the sins of Eoderick have come up before God, and His 
anger is kindled against him, and He has given him up to he 
invaded and destroyed. Hasten then to Spain, and seek the 
camp of thy countrymen. Warn them that such only shall be 
saved as shall abandon Roderick; but those who adhere to 
him shall share his punishment, and shaU fall under the sword 
of the invader.'" 

The pilgTim ceased, and passed forth from the tent ; certain 
of the cavaliers followed him to detain him, that they might 
converse further with him about these matters, but he was no 
where to be found. The sentinel before the tent said, ' ' I saw 
no one come forth, but it was as if a blast of wind passed by 
me, and there was a rusthng as of dry leaves. " 

The cavahers remained looking upon each other with aston- 
ishment. The Bishop Oppas sat with his eyes fixed upon the 
ground, and shadowed by his overhanging brow. At length, 
breaking silence, in a low and faltering voice: "Doubtless," 
said he, "tliis message is from God; and since He has taken 
compassion upon us, and given us notice of His impending judg- 
ment, it behoves us to hold grave council, and determine how 
best we may accomplish His will and avert His displeasure." 

The chiefs still remained silent as men confounded. Among 
them was a veteran noble named PeUstes. He had distin- 
guished himself in the African wars, fighting side by side with 
Count Julian ; but the latter had never dared to tamper with 
his faith, for he knew his stern integrity. Pohstes had brought 
with him to the camp his only son, who had never drawn a 
sword except in tourney. When the young man saw that the 
veterans held their peace, the blood mantled in his cheek, and, 
overcoming his modesty, he broke forth with a generous 
warmth: "I know not, cavaliers," said he, "what is passing 
in your minds, but I believe this pilgrim to be an envoy from 
the devil; for none else could have given such dastard and per- 
fidious counsel. For my own part, I stand ready to defend my 
king, my country, and my faith ; I know no higher duty than 
this ; and if God thinks fit to strike me dead in the perform- 
ance of it, His sovereign will be done !" 

When the young man had lisen to speak, his father had 
fixed his eyes upon him with a grave and stem demeanour, 
leaning upon a two-handed sword. As soon as the youth had 
finished, Pelistes embraced him with a father's fondness. 
"Tliou hast spoken well, my son," said he; "if I held my 
peace at the counsel of this losel pilgruxi, it was but to hear thy 



56 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

opinion, and to learn whether thou wert worthy of thy lineage 
and of the training I had given thee. Hadst thou counselled 
otherwise than thou hast done, hadst thou shown thyself 
craven and disloyal ; so help me God, I would have struck off 
thy head with this weapon which I hold in my hand. But 
thou hast counselled like a loyal and a Christian knight, and I 
thank God for having given me a son worthy to perpetuate the 
honours of my line. As to this pilgrim, be he saint or be he 
devil, I care not ; this much I promise, that if I am to die in 
defence of my country and my king, my life shall be a costly 
purchase to the foe. Let each man make the same resolve, 
and I trust we shall yet prove the pilgrim a Ijang prophet. " 
The words of Pelistes roused the spirits of many of the cava- 
liers; others, however, remained full of anxious foreboding, 
and when this fearful prophecy was rumoured about the camp, 
as it presently was by the emissaries of the bishop, it spread 
awe and dismay among the soldiery. 



CHAPTER XV. 



SKIRMISHING OP THE ARMIES— PELISTES AND HIS SON — PELISTES 
AND THE BISHOP. 

On the following day the two armies remained regarding 
each other with wary, but menacing aspect. About noontide 
King Eoderick sent forth a chosen force of five hundred horse 
and two hundred foot, the bent armed of his host, to skirmish 
with the enemy, that, by gaining some partial advantage, they 
might raise the spirits of the army. They wore led on by 
Theodomir, the same Gothic noble who had signalized himself 
by first opposing the invasion of the Moslems. 

The Christian squadrons paraded with flying pennons in the 
valley which lay between the armies. The Arabs were not 
slow in answering their defiance. A large body of horsemen 
sallied forth to the encovmter, together with three hundred of 
the followers of Count Julian. There was hot skirmishing 
about the field and on the banks of the river ; many gallant 
feats were displayed on either side, and many vahant warriors 
were slain. As the night closed in, the trumpets from either 
camp summoned the troops to retire from the combat. In this 
day's action the Christians suffered greatly in the loss of their 



THE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 57 

distinguished cavaliers ; for it is the noblest spirits who ven- 
ture most, and lay themselves open to danger ; and the Mos- 
lem soldiers had instructions to single out the leaders of the 
adverse host. All this is said to have been devised by the 
perfidious Bishop Oppas, who had secret communications with 
the enemy, while he influenced the councils of the king ; and 
who trusted that by this skirmishing warfare the flower of the 
Christian troops would be cut off, and the rest disheartened. 

On the following morning a larger force was ordered out to 
skirmish, and such of the soldiery as were unarmed were com- 
manded to stand ready to seize the horses and strip off the 
armour of the killed a>id wounded. Among the most illus- 
trio-us of the warriors who fought that day was Pelistes, the 
Gothic noble who had so sternly checked the tongue of the 
Bishop Oppas. He led to the field a large body of his own 
vassals and retainers, and of cavaliers trained up in his house, 
who had followed him to the wars in Africa, and who looked 
up to Mm more as a father than a chieftain. Beside him was 
his only son, who now for the first time was fleshing his sword 
in battle. The conflict that day was more general and bloody 
than the day preceding ; the slaughter of the Christian warriors 
was immense, from their lack of defensive armour; and as 
nothing could prevent the flower of the Gothic chivalry from 
spurring to the combat, the field was strewed with the bodies 
of the youthful nobles. None suffered more, however, than 
the warriors of Pelistes. Their leader himself was bold and 
hardy, and prone to expose himself to danger ; but years and 
experience had moderated his early fire ; his son, however, was 
eager to distinguish himself in this, his first essay, and rushed 
with impetuous ardour into the hottest of the battle. In vain 
his father called to caution him ; he was ever in the advance, 
and seemed unconscious of the perils that surrounded him. 
The cavaUers and vassals of his father followed him -with de- 
voted zeal, and many of them paid for their loyalty with their 
hves. "When the trumpets soimded in the evening for retreat, 
the troops of Pelistes were the last to reach the camp. They 
came slowly and mournfully, and much decreased in number. 
Their veteran commander was seated on his war-horse, but the 
blood trickled from the greaves of his armour. His valiant 
son was borne on the shields of his vassals ; when they laid 
him on the earth near to where the kmg was standing, they 
found that the heroic youth had expired of his wounds. The 
cavaliers surrounded the body and gave utterance to their 



58 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

grief, but the father restrained his agony, and looked on with 
the stern resignation of a soldier. 

Don Roderick surveyed the field of battle with a rueful eye, 
for it was covered with the niangled bodies of his most illus- 
trious warriors; he saw, too, with anxiety, that the common 
people, unused to war and unsustained by disciphne, were har- 
assed by incessant toils and dangers, and were coohng in their 
zeal and courage. 

The crafty Bishop Oppas marked the internal trouble of the 
king, and thought a favoiu-able moment had arrived to sway 
lum to his purpose. He called to his mind the various portents 
and prophecies which had forerun their present danger. " Let 
not my lord the king," said he, "make hght of these mysteri- 
ous revelations, which appear to be so disastrously fulfilling. 
The hand of Heaven appears to be against us. Destruction is 
impending over our heads. Our troops ai*e rude and imskiKul, 
but shghtly armed, and much cast down in spirit. Better is it 
that we should m^ake a treaty with the enemy, and, by grant- 
ing part of his demands, prevent the utter ruin of our country. 
If such counsel be acceptable to my lord the king, I stand 
ready to depart upon a,n embassy to the Moslem camp." 

Upon hearing these words, Pelistes, who had stood in mourn- 
fid silence, regarding the dead body of his son, burst forth 
with honest indignation. "By this good sword," said he, 
"the man who yields such dastard counsel deserves death 
from the hand of his countryman rather than from the foe; 
and, were it not for the presence of the king, may I forfeit 
salvation if I would not strike him dead upon the spot." 

The bishop turned an eye of venom upon Pelistes. "My 
lord," said he, " I, too, bear a weapon, and know how to wield 
it. Were the king not present, you would not dare to n:onace, 
nor should you advance one step "without my hastening to 
iTieet you." 

The king interposed between the jarring nobles, and rebuked 
the impetuosity of Pelistes, but at the same time reject«l the 
counsel of the bishop. " The event of this conflict," said he, 
"is in the hand of God; but never shall my sword return 
to its scabbard while an infidel invader remains within the 
land." 

He then held a council with his captains, and it was de- 
termined to ofler the enemy general battle on the following 
day. A herald was dospa.tched defying Taric ben Zeyad to 
the contest, and the defiance was gladly accepted by the 



TUPJ LKOEND OF DON RODERICK 59 

Moslem, chieftain.* Don Roderick then formed the plan of ac- 
tion, and assigned to each commander his several station, after 
which he dismissed his officers, and eacli one sought his tent, 
to prepare by dOigence or repose for the next day's eventful 
contest. 



CHAPTER XVI. i 

TRAITOROUS MESSAGE OF COUNT JULIAN. 

Taric een Zeyad had been surprised by the valour of the 
Christian cavahers in the recent battles, and at the niunber and 
apparent devotion of the troops which accompanied the king 
to the field. The confident deliance of Don Roderick increased 
his surprise. When the hei*ald had retired, he turned an eye 
of SLispicion on Count Juhan. ' ' Thou hast represented thy 
countrymen," said he, " as sunk m effeminacy and lost to all 
generous impulse ; yet I find them fighting with the courage 
and the strength of lions. Thou hast represented thy king 
as detested by his subjects and surrounded by secret treason ; 
but I behold his tents whitening the hills and dales, wlnle 
thousands are hourly fiockmg to his standaj^d. Woe imto thee 
if thou hast dealt deceitfully vv^ith us, or betrayed us with guile- 
ful words." 

Don Julian retired to his tent in great trouble of mind, and 
fear came upon Mm that the Bishop Oppas might play him 
false; for it is the lot of traitors ever to distrust each other. 
He called to him the same page who had brought hun the 
letter from Mormda, revealing the story of her dishonour. 

"Thou knowest, nay tiTusty page," said he, "that I have 
reai'ed thee m my household, and cherished thee above all 
thy companions. If thou hast loyalty and affection for thy 
lord, now is the time to serve him. Hie thee to the Christian 
camp, and fmd thy way to the tent of the Bishop Oppas. If 
any one ask thee who thou art, tell them thou art of the house- 
hold of the bishop, and bearer of missives from Cordova. 
When thou art admitted to the presence of the bishop, show 
him this ling, and he will commiuie with thee in secret. Then 
tell liim Count Julian greets hhn as a brother, and demands 
how the wrongs of his daughter Floriuda are to be redressed. 

♦Jiiecia, Cronica. 



60 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

Mark well his reply, and bring it word for word. Have thy 
lips closed, but thine eyes and ears open; and observe every 
thing of note in th& camp of the king. So, speed thee on thy 
errand — away, away !'' 

The page hastened to saddle a Barbary steed, fleet as the 
wind, and of a jet black colour, so as not to be easily discerni- 
ble in the night. He girded on a sword and a dagger, slung an 
Arab bow with a quiver of arrows at his side, and buckler at 
his shoulder. Issuing out of the camp, he sought the banks of 
the Guadalete, and proceeded silently along its stream, which 
reflected the distant fires of the Christian camp. As he passed 
by the place which had been the scene of the recent conflict, 
he heard, from time to time, the groan of some expiring war- 
rior who had crawled among the reeds on the margin of the 
river; and sometimes his steed stepped cautiously over the 
mangled bodies of the slain. The yoimg page was unused to 
the sights of war, and his lieart beat quick within him. He 
was hailed by the sentinels as he approached the Christian 
camp, and, on giving the reply taught him by Count Juhan, 
was conducted to the tent of the Bishop Oppas. 

The bisho}) had r^ot yet retired to his couch. When he be- 
held the ring of Count Julian, and heard the words of his mes- 
sage, he saw that llic page was one in whom he might confide. 
"Hasten back to thy lord," said he, "and tell him to have 
faith in me and all shall go well. As yet I haA^e kept my 
troops out of the combat. They are all fresh, well armed, and 
well appointed. The king has confided to myself, aided by the 
princes Evan and Siseburto, the command of a wing of the 
army. To-morrow, at the hour of noon, when both armies are 
in the heat of action, we will pass over with our forces to the 
Moslems. But I claim the compact made with Taric ben 
Zeyad, that my nephews be placed in dominion over Spain, 
and tributary only to the Caliph of Damascus." With this 
traitorous message the page departed. He led his black steed 
by the bridle, to present less mark for observation, as he went 
stumbling along near the expiring fires of the camp. On pass- 
ing the last outpost, where the guards were half slumbering 
on their arms, he was overheard and summoned, but leaped 
lightly into the saddle and put spurs to his steed. An arrow 
whistled by his ear, and two more stuck in the target which 
he had thrown upon his back. The clatter of swift hoofs 
echoed behind him, but he had learnt of the Arabs to fight 
and fly. Plucking a shaft from his quiver, and turning and 



TUE LEO END OF DON RODERICK. 61 

rising in his stirrups as his courser galloped at full speed, he 
drew the arrow to the head and launched it at his pursuer. 
The twang of the bow string was followed by the crash of ar- 
mour, and a deep groan, as the horseman tumbled to the earth. 
The page pursued his course without further molestation, and 
arrived at the Moslem camp before the break of day. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

LAST DAY OF THE BATTLE. 

A LIGHT had burned throughout the night in the tent of the 
king, and anxious thoughts and dismal visions troubled his 
repose. If he fell into a slumber, he beheld in his dreams the 
shadowy phantoms of the necromantic tower, or the injured 
Florinda, pale and dishevelled, imprecating the vengeance of 
heaven upon his head. In the mid- watches of the night, when 
all was silent except the footsteps of the sentinel, pacing before 
his tent, the king rose from his couch, and walking forth 
looked thoughtfully upon the martial scene before him. The 
pale crescent of the moon hung over the Moorish camp, and 
dimly hghted up the windings of the Guadalete. The heart of 
the king was heavy and oppressed ; but he felt only for himself, 
says Antonio Agapida; he thoi:ght nothing of the perils im- 
pending over the thousands of devoted subjects in the camp 
below him ; sleeping, as it were, on the margin of their graves. 
The faint clatter of distant hoofs, as if in rapid flight, reached 
the monarch's ear, but the horsemen were not to be descried. 
At that very houi-, and along the shadowy banks of that river, 
here and there gleaming with the scanty moonlight, passed 
the fugitive messenger of Count Julian, with the plan of the 
next day's treason. 

The day had not yet dawned, when the sleepless and im- 
patient monarch summoned his attendants and arrayed him- 
self for the field. He then sent for the venerable Bishop 
Urbino, who had accompanied him to the camp, and, laying 
aside his regal crown, ]:e Icnelt with head uncovered, and con- 
fessed his sins before the holy man. After this a solemn mass 
was performed in the royal tent, and the eucharist adminis- 
tered to the monarch. When these ceremonies were con- 
cluded, he besought the archbishop to depart forthwith for 



G2 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

Cordova, there to await the issue of the battle, and to be ready 
to bring forward reinforcements and suj^piies. The archbishop 
saddled his mule and departed just as the faint blush of morn- 
ing began to kindle in the east. Already the camp resounded 
with the thrilling call of the trumpet, the clank of armour, 
and the tramp and neigh of steeds. As the archbishop j)asscd 
through the camp, he looked with a compassionate heart on 
this vast multitude, of whom so many were soon to perish. 
The warriors pressed to kiss his hand, and many a cavalier full 
of youth and fire received his benediction, who was to lie stiff 
and cold before the evening. 

When the troops were marshalled for the field, Don Roderick 
prepared to sally forth in the state and pomp with v/hich the 
Gothic kings were wont to go to battle. He was arrayed in 
robes of gold brocade; his sandals were embroidered with 
pearls and diamonds; he had a sceptre in his hand, and he 
wore a regal crown resplendent with inestimable jewels. Thus 
gorgeously apparelled, he ascended a lofty chariot of ivory^, 
the axle-trees of which were of silver, and the wheels and pole 
covered with plates of burnished gold. Above his head was a 
canopy of cloth of gold embossed with armorial devices, and 
studded with precious stones.* This sumptuous chariot Avas 
drawn by milk-white horses, with cax^arisons of crimson 
velvet, embroidered with pearls. A thousand youthful cava- 
liers surrounded the car ; all of the noblest blood and bravest 
spirit; all knighted by the king's own hand, and sworn to 
defend him to the last. 

When Roderick issued forth in this resplendent state, says 
an Arabian writer, surrounded by his guards in gilded armour 
and waving plumes a.nd scarfs and surcoats of a thousand dyes, 
it was as if the sun were emerging in the dazzling chariot of 
the day from, amidst the glorious clouds of moi-ning. 

As the royal car rolled along in front of the squadrons, the 
soldiers shouted with admiration. Don Rodeiick waved his 
sceptre and addressed them from his lofty throne, reminding 
them of the horror and desolation which had already been 
spread through the land by the invaders. He called upon 
them to summon up the ancient valour of their race and 
avenge the blood of their brethren. "One day of glorious 
fighting," said he, " and this infidel horde will be driven into 
the sea or will perish beneath your swords. Forward bravely 

* Entraiul. Chron. an. Chris. 714. 



THE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 63 

TO the fight ; your families are behind you praying for yon? 
success; the invaders of your country are before you; God w 
above to bless his Holy cause, and your king leads you to the 
lield." The army shouted with one accord, "Forward to the 
foe, and death bo hi:3 portion who slums the encounter!" 

The rising sun began to shine along the glistening waters of 
the Gruadalete as the Moorish army, squadron after squadron, 
came sweeping down a gentle declivity to the sound of martial 
music. Their turbans and robes, of various dyes and fashions, 
gave a splendid appearance to their host ; as they marched, a 
cloud of dust arose and partly hid them from the sight, but 
still there would break forth flashes of steel and gleams of 
burnished gold, like rays of vivid lightning; while the sound 
of drum and trumpet, and the clash of Mooi'ish cymbal, were as 
the warlike thunder witliin that stormy cloud of battle. 

As the armies drew near each other, the sun disappeared 
among gathering clouds, and the gloom of the day was in- 
creased by the columns of dust wliich rose from either host. 
At length the trumpets sounded for the encounter. The battle 
commenced with showers of arrows, stones, and javehns. The 
Christian foot-soldiers fought to disadvantage, the greater part 
being destitute of helm or buckler. A battalion of light 
Arabian horsemen, led by a Greek renegade named Maguel el 
Eunii, careered in front of the Christian line, launching their 
darts, and then wheeling off beyond the reach of the missiles 
hurled after them. Theodomir nov>r brought up his seasoned 
troops into tlie action, seconded by the veteran Pelistes, and 
in a little while the battle became furious and promiscuous, 
tt was gloriotis to behold the o^d Gothic valour shining forth 
in this hour of fearful trial. Wherever the Moslems fell, 
the Christians rushed forward, seiiied upon their horses, and 
stripped tliem of their rtrmour and their weapons. They 
fought desperately and successfully, for they fought for their 
country and their faith. The battle raged for several hours ; 
the field was strewn with slain, and the Moors, overcome by 
the multitude and fiiry of their foes, began to falter. 

When I'aric beheld his troops retreating before the enemy, 
he threw tdmself before them, and, rising in his stirrups, ' ' O 
Moslems! conquerors of Africa!" cried he, "whither vrould 
you fly? The sea is behind you, the enemy before; you have 
no hope but in your valour and the help of God. Do as I do 
and the day is oxwa !" 

With these words he put spurs to his horse and sprung 



(34 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

auiong the enemy, strildng to right and left, cutting down and 
destroying, while his steed, fiei'ce as himself, trampled upon 
the foot-soldiers, and tore them with his teeth. At this mo- 
ment a mighty shout arose in various parts of the field ; the 
noontide hour had arrived. The Bishop Oppas with the two 
princes, who had hitherto kept their bands out of the fight, 
suddenly went over to the enemy, and turned their weapons 
upon their astonished countrymen. From that moment the 
fortune of the day was changed, and the field of battle became 
a scene of wild confusion and bloody massacre. The Christians 
knew not whom to contend with, or whom to trust. It seemed 
as if madness had seized upon their friends and kinsmen, and 
that their worst enemies were among themselves. 

The courage of Don Koderick rose with his danger. Throw- 
ing off the cumbrous robes of royalty and descending from his 
car, he sprang upon his steed Orelia, grasped liis lance and 
buckler, and endeavoured to rally his retreating troops. He 
was surrounded and assailed by a multitude of his own trai- 
torous subjects, but defended himself with wondrous prowess. 
Tlie enemy thickened around him ; his loyal band of cavaliers 
were slain, "bravely fightmg in his defence ; the last that was 
seen of the king was in the midst of the enemy, dealing death 
at every blow. 

A complete panic fell upon the Christians ; they threw away 
their arms and fled m all directions. They were pursued with 
dreadful slaughter, until the darkness of the night rendered it 
impossible to distinguish friend from foe. Taric then called off 
his troops from the pursuit, and took possession of the royal 
cami) ; and the couch which had been pressed so uneasily on 
the preceding night by Don Eoderick, now yielded sound repose 
to his conqueror.* 



CHAPTER XVin. 

THE FIELD OF BATTLE AFTER THE DEFEAT — THE FATE OF 
RODERICK. 

On the morning after the battle, the Arab leader, Taric ben 
Zeyad, rode over the bloody field of the Guadalete, strewed 
with the ruins of those splendid armies which had so lately 

♦This battle is called indiscriminately bj' historians the battle of Guadalete, or 
pf Xeres, from the neighbourhood of that city. 



THE LEGEH^D OB' DON RODERICK. 65 

passed like glorious pageants along the river banks. There Moor 
and Christian, horseman and horse, lay gashed with hideous 
wounds ; and the river, still red with blood, was filled with the 
bodies of the slain. The gaunt Arab was as a wolf roaming 
through the fold he had laid waste. On every side his eye 
revelled on the ruin of the country, on the wrecks of haughty 
Spain. There lay the flower of her youthful chivalry, mangled 
and destroyed, and the strength of her yeomanry prostrated 
in the dust. The Gothic noble lay confounded wibh his vassals ; 
the peasant -with the prince; all ranks and dignities were 
mingled in one bloody massacre. 

When Taric had surveyed the field, he caused the spoils of 
the dead and the plunder of the camp to bo brought before him. 
The booty was mimense. There were massy chains, and rare 
jewels of gold ; pearls and precious stones ; rich silks and bro- 
cades, and all other luxurious decorations in which the Gothic 
nobles had indulged in the latter times of their degeneracy. 
A vast amount of treasure was likewise found, which had been 
brought by Roderick for the expenses of the war. 

Taric then ordered that the bodies of the Moslem warriors 
should be interred ; as for those of the Christians, they were 
gathered in heaps, and vast pyres of wood were formed, on 
which they were consumed. The flames of these pyres rose 
high in the air, and were seen afar off in the night ; and when 
the Christians beheld them from the neighbouring hills, they 
beat their breasts and tore their hair, and lamented over them 
as over the funeral fires of their country. The carnage of that 
battle infected the air for two whole months, and bones were 
seen lying in heaps upon the field for more than forty years ; 
nay, when ages had passed and gone, the husbandman, turn- 
ing up the soil, woidd still find fragments of Gothic cuirasses 
and helms, and Moorish scimitars, the rehcs of that dreadful 
fight. 

For three days the Arabian horsemen pursued the flying 
Christians ; hunting them over the face of the country ; so that 
but a scanty number of that mighty host escaped to tell the 
tale of their disaster. 

Taric ben Zeyad considered his victory incomplete so long as 
the Gothic monarch survived; he proclaimed great rewards, 
therefore, to whomsoever should bring Roderick to him, dead 
or alive. A diligent search was accordingly made in every 
direction, but for a long tune in vain; at length a soldier 
brought to Taric the head of a Christian warrior, on which was 



66 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

a cap decorated with feathers and precious stones. The Arab 
leader received it as the head of the unfortunate Roderick, 
and sent it, as a trophj^ of his victory, to Muza ben Nosier, 
who, in hke manner, transmitted it to the cahph at Damas- 
cus. The Spanish historians, however, have always denied its 
identity. 

A mystery has over hung, and ever must continue to hang, 
over the fate of King Roderick, in that dark and doleful day 
of Spain. Whether he went down amidst the storm of battle, 
and atoned for liis sins and errors by a patriot grave, or whether 
he survived to repent of thorn in hermit exile, must remain 
matter of conjecture a.nd dispute. The learned Ai-chbishop 
Rodrigo, who has recorded the events of this disastrous field, 
affirms that Roderick fell beneath the vengeful blade of the 
traitor Jvihan, and thus expiated with his blood his crime 
against the hapless Florinda ; but the archbishop stands alone 
in his record of the fact. It seems generally admitted that 
Orelia, the favourite war-horse, was found entangled in a marsh 
on the borders of the Guadalete, with the sandals and mantle 
and royal insignia of the king lying close by him. The river at 
this place ran broad and deep, and was encumbered with the 
dead bodies of warriors and steeds ; it has been supposed, there- 
fore, that he perished in the stream; but his body was not 
found within its waters. 

When several years had passed away, and men's minds, being 
restored to some degree of tranquilhty, began to occupy them- 
selves about the events of this dismal day, a rumour arose that 
Roderick had escaped from the carnage on the banks of the 
Guadaletc, and was still alive. It was said, that having from 
a rising ground caught a view of the whole field of battle, and 
seen that the day was lost, and his army flying in all directions, 
he hkewise sought his safety in flight. It is added, that the 
Arab horsemen, while scouring the mountains in quest of 
fugitives, found a shepherd arrayed in the royal robes, and 
brought him before the conqueror, believing him to be the king 
himself. Count Julian soon dispelled the error. On being 
questioned, the trembling rustic declared that while tending 
his sheep in the folds of the mountains, there came a cavalier 
on a horse wearied and spent and ready to sink beneath the 
spur. That the cavalier with an authoritative voice and mena- 
cing air counnanded him to exchange garments with him, and 
clad himself in his rude garb of sheep-skin, and took his crook 
and his scrip of provisions, and continued up the rugged de- 



THE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 67 

files of the mountains leading towards CastUe, until he was 
lost to view.* 

This tradition was fondly cherished by many, who climg to 
the belief ia the existence of their monarch as their main hope 
for the redemption of Spain. It was even affirmed that he had 
talcen refuge, with many of Ms host, in an island of the " Ocean 
sea, " from whence he might yet return once more to elevate 
his standard, and battle for the recovery of his throne. 

Year after year, however, elapsed, and nothing was heard of 
Don Eoderick ; yet, like Sebastian of Portugal, and Ai-thur of 
England, his name continued to be a rallyiag pomt for popular 
faith, and the mystery of his end to give rise to romantic 
fables. At length, when generation after generation had sunk 
into the grave, and near two centuries had passed and gone, 
traces were said to be discovered that threw a light on the final 
fortunes of the unfortunate Eoderick. At that time, Don 
Alphonso the Great, King of Leon, had wrested the city of 
Viseo m Lusitania from the hands of the Moslems. As Ms 
soldierEJ were ranging about the city and its environs, one of 
them discovered in a field, outside of the walls, a small chapel 
or hermitage, with a sepulchre in front, on which was inscribed 
tMs epitaph in GotMc characters : 

HIC ftEQUIESCIT RUDERICUS, 
ULTIMUS KKX GOTHORUM. 

(Here lies Roderick, 
The last king of the Goths.) 

It has been believed by many that tMs was the veritable 
tomb of the monarch, and that in this hermitage he had fimshed 
his days in solitary penance. The warrior, as he contemplated 
the supposed tomb of the once haughty Eoderick, forgot aU his 
faults and errors, and shed a soldier's tear over Ms memory ; 
but when his thoughts turned to Count Juhan, his patriotic 
mdignation broke forth, and with his dagger he inscribed a 
rude malediction on the stone. 

"Accui'sed," said he, "be the impious and headlong ven- 
geance of the traitor Julian. He was a murderer of Ms king ; 
a destroyer of his kindred; a betrayer of his country. May 
his name be bitter in every mouth, and Ms memory iiafamous 
to all generations !" 

Here ends the legend of Don Eoderick. 

* Bleda, Cron. L. 2, c. 9. Abulcasim Taiif Abeutarique, L. 1, c. \\> 



68 LEGENDS OF THE UONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE FOREGOING LEGEND. 

THE TOMB OF RODERICK. 

The venerable Sebastiano, Bishop of Salamanca, declaree 
tiiat the inscription on the tomb at Viseo in Portugal existed in 
his time, and that he had seen it. A particular account of the 
exile and hermit life of Roderick is furnished by Berganza, on 
the authority of Portuguese chronicles. 

Algunos historiadores Portugueses asseguran, que el Eey 
Rodrigo, perdida la battalia, huyo a tierra de Merida, y se 
recogio en el monastei'io de Caulmiano, en donde, an*epentido 
de sus culpas, procuro conlessarlas con muchas lagi'imas. 
Deseando mas retiro, y escogiendo por compailero a un m.onge 
llamado Roman, y elovando la Imagen de Nazareth, que Cy- 
riaco monge de nacion griego avra traido de Jerusalem al mo- 
nasterio de Cauliniano, se subio a un monte muy aspero, que 
estaba sobre el mar, junto al lugar de Pederneyra. Vivio 
Rodrigo en compania de el monge en el hueco de una gruta por 
espacio de un alio ; despues se passo a la ermita de san Miguel, 
que estaba cerca de Viseo, en donde murio y fue sepultado. 

Puedese ver esta relacion en las notas de Don Thomas Tamayo 
sobre Paulo deacano. El chronicon de san Millan, que Uega 
hasta el ailo 883, deze que, hasta su ticmpo, si ignora el fin del 
Rey Rodrigo. Pocos aiios despues el Rey Don Alonzo el Magno, 
aviendo ganado la ciudad de Viseo, encontro en una iglesia el 
epitaflo que en romance dize — aqui yaze Rodrigo, ultimo Rey 
de los Godos. — Berganza, L. 1, c. 13. 



THE CAVE OF HERCULES. 

As the story of the necromantic tower is one of the most 
famous as -well as least credible points in the history of Don 
Roderick, it may be well to fortify or buttress it by some ac- 
count of another marvel of the city of Toledo. This ancient 
city, which dates its existence almost from the time of the 
flood, claiming as its founder Tubal, the son of Japhet, and 
grandson of Noah,* has been the warrior hold of many genera- 
tions, and a strange . diversity of i"aces. It bears traces of the 

* Salazar, Hist. Gran. Cardinal, Prologo, vol. 1. plan 1. 



TUE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 69 

artifices and devices of its various occupants, and is full of 
mysteries and subjects for antiquarian conjecture and perplex- 
ity. It is built upon a liigh rocky promontory, with the Tagus 
brawling round its base, and is overlooked by cragged and pre- 
cipitous hills. These hills abound with clefts and caverns ; and 
the promontory itself, on which the city is built, bears traces 
of vaults and subterraneous habitations, which are occasionally 
discovered under the ruins of ancient houses, or beneath the 
churches and convents. 

These are supposed by some to have been the habitations or 
retreats of the primitive inhabitants ; for it was the custom of 
the ancients, according to Phny, to make caves in high and 
rocky places, and hve in them through fear of floods ; and such 
a precaution, says the worthy Don Pedro de Roxas, in his his- 
tory of Toledo, was natural enough among the first Toledans, 
seeing that they founded their city shortly after the deluge 
while the memory of it was still fresh in their minds. 

Some have supposed these secret caves and vaults to have 
been places of concealment of the inliabitants and their treas- 
ure, during tunes of war and violence ; or rude temples for the 
performance of reMgious ceremonies in times of persecution. 
There are not wanting other, and grave writers, who give them 
a stUl darker purpose. In these caves, say they, were taught 
the diabohcal mysteries of magic; and here were performed 
those infernal ceremonies and incantations horrible in the eyes 
of God and man. " History," says the worthy Don Pedro de 
Roxas, ' ' is full of accounts that the magi taught and performed 
their magic and their superstitious rites in profound caves and 
secret places ; because as this art of the devil was prohibited 
from the very origin of Christianity, they always sought for 
hidden places in Avhicli to practise it. " In the time of the Moors 
this art, we are told, was publicly taught at their miiversities, 
the same as astronomy, philosophy, and mathematics, and at 
no place was it cidtivated mth more success than at Toledo. 
Hence this city has ever been darkly renowned for mystic 
science ; insomuch that the magic art was called by the French, 
and by other nations, the Ai'te Toledana. 

Of all the marvels, however, of this ancient, pictui-esque, 
romantic, and necromantic city, none in modern times surpass 
the cave of Hercules, if we may take the account of Don Pedro 
de Roxas for authentic. The entrance to this cave is within 
the church of San Ginos, situated in nearly the highest part of 
the city. The portal is secured by massy doors, opening within 



70 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

the walls of the church, but which are kept rigorously closed. 
The cavern extends under the city and beneath the bed of the 
Tagiis to the distance of three leagues beyond. It is, in some 
places, of rare architecture, built of small stones curiously 
wrought, and suppoi-ted by colunins and arches. 

In the year 1516 an account of tliis cavern was given to the 
archbishop and cardinal Don Juan Martinez Siliceo, who, 
desirous of examining it, ordered the entrance to be cleaned. 
A number of persons, furnished v\^ith provisions, lanterns, and 
cords, then went in, and liaving proceeded about half a league, 
came to a place where there was a kind of chapel or temple, 
having a table or altar, with several statues of bronze in niches 
or on pedestals. 

While they were regarding this mysterious scene of ancient 
worslrip or incantation, one of the statues fell, with a noise 
that echoed through the cavern, and smote the hearts of the 
adventurers with terror. Recovering from their alarm they 
proceeded onward, but were soon again dismayed by a roaring 
and rushing sound that increased as they advanced. It was 
made by a furious and turbulent stream, the dark waters of 
which Avere too deep and broad and rapid to be crossed. By 
this time their hearts were so chilled with awe, and their 
thoughts so bewildered, that they could not seek any other 
passage by which they might advance ; so they turned back 
and hastened out of the cave. It was nightfall when they 
sallied forth, and they were so much affected by the terror 
thoy had undergone, and by the cold and damp air of the 
cavern, to which they were the more sensible from its being in 
the summer, that all of them fell sick and several of them died. 
Whether the archbishop was encouraged to pursue his re- 
search and gratify Ms curiosity, the history does not mention. 

Alonzo Telles de Meneses, in his history of the world, re- 
cords, that not long before his time a boy of Toledo, being 
thi-eatened with punishment by his master, fled and took 
refuge in this cave. Fancying liis pursuer at his heels, he 
took no heed of the obscurity or coldness of the cave, but kept 
groping and blundering forward, untU he came forth at three 
leagues' distance from the city. 

Another and very popular story of this cave, current among 
the common people, was, that in its remote recesses lay con- 
cealed a great treasure of gold, left there by the Romans. 
Whoever would reach this i^recious hoard must pass through 
several caves or grottoes; each having its particular terror, 



THE LEGEND OF DON ItODERICK. 71 

and all under the guardianship of a ferocious dog, who has the 
key of aU the gates, and watches day and night. At tlie ap- 
proach of any one he shows his teeth, and makes a hideous 
growhng; but no adventurer after wealth has had courage to 
brave a contest with this terrific Cerberus. 

The most intrepid candidate on record was a poor man who 
had lost liis rdl, and had those grand incentives to desperate 
enterprise, a wife and a large family of children. Hearing the 
story of this cave, he determined to venture alone in search of 
the treasm*e. Ho accordingly entered, and wandered many 
hours, bewildered, about the cave. Often would he have re- 
turned, but the thoughts of his wife and children urged him 
on. At length he arrived near to the place where he supposed 
the treasure lay hidden ; but here, to his dismay, he beheld 
the floor of the cavern strewn with human bones ; doubtless 
the remains of adventurers like himself, who had been torn to 
pieces. 

Losing all courage, he now turned and sought his way out 
of the cave. Horrors thickened upon him as he fled. Ho 
behekl direful phantoms glaiing and gibbermg around him, 
and heard the sound of jjursuit in the echoes of his footsteps. 
He reached his home overcome with affright; several hours 
elapsed before he could recover speech to teU his story, and 
he died on the following day. 

The judicious Don Pedro de Eoxas holds the account of the 
buried treasure for fabulous, but the adventure of tliis un- 
lucky man for very possible; being led on by avarice, or 
rather the hope of retrievuig a desperate fortune. He, more- 
over, pronounces his dying shortly after coming forth as very 
probable ; because the darkness of the cave ; its coldness ; the 
flight at flnding the bones ; the dread of meeting the imagi- 
nary dog, all joining to operate upon a man who was past the 
prime of Ms days, and enfeebled by poverty and scanty food, 
might easily cause his death. 

Many have considered this cave as intended originally for a 
sally or retreat from the city in case it should be taken ; an 
opinion rendered probable, it is thought, by its grandeur and 
great extent. 

The learned Salazar de Mendoza, however, in his history of 
the grand cardinal of Spain, affirms it as an established fact, 
that it was first wrought out of the rock by Tubal, the son of 
Japhet, and grandson of Noah, and afterwards repaired and 
greatly augmented by Herciilcs the Egyptian, who made it his 



72 LEGENDS OF TUB CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

habitation after he had erected his pillars at the straits of 
Gibraltar. Here, too, it is said, he read magic to his follow- 
ers, and taught them those supernatural arts by which he 
accomplished his vast achievements. Others think that it was 
a temple dedicated to Hercules ; as was the case, according to 
Pomponius Mela, with the great cave in the rock of Gibraltar ; 
certain it is, that it has always borne the name of " The Cave 
of Hercules." 

There are not wanting some who have insinuated that it "vvas 
a work dating from the time of the Romans, and intended as 
a cloaca or sewer of the city ; but such a grovelling insinuation 
will be treated with proper scorn by the reader, after the 
nobler purposes to which he has heard this marvellous cavern 
consecrated. 

From all the circumstances here adduced from learned and 
reverend authors, it will be perceived that Toledo is a city 
fruitful of marvels, and that the necromantic tower of Her- 
ciiles has more solid foundation than most edifices of similar 
import in ancient history. 

The wi-iter of these pages will venture to add the result of 
his personal researches respecting the far-famed cavern in 
question. Eambling about Toledo in the year 1826, in com- 
pany with a small knot of antiquity hunters, among whom 
was an eminent British painter, =*" and an English nobleman, t 
who has since distinguished liimself in Spanish historical re- 
search, we directed our steps to the church of San Gines, and 
inquired for the portal of the secret cavern. The sacristan was 
a voluble and communicative man, and one not hkely to be 
niggard of his tongue about any thing he knew, or slow to 
boast of any marvel pertaining to his church ; but he professed 
utter ignorance of the existence of any such portal. He re- 
membered to have heard, however, that immediately under 
the entrance to the church there was an arch of mason-work, 
apparently the upper part of some subterranean portal ; but 
that all had been covered up and a pavement laid down there- 
on; so that whether it led to the magic cave or the necro- 
mantic tower remains a mystery, and so must remain until 
some monarch or archbishop shall again have courage and 
authority to break the spell. 

* Mr. D, W-kle, f Lord Mah— n. 



LEGEND OF THE SVBJUGATIOK OF m*AlK 73 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN.* 



CHAPTER I. 



CONSTERNATION OF SPAIN — CONDUCT OF THE CONQUERORS- 
MISSIVES BETWEEN TARIC AND MUZA. 

The overthrow of King Roderick and his army on the banks 
of the Guadalete, threw open all southern Spain to the inroads 
of the Moslems. The whole country fled before them ; villages 
and hamlets were hastUy abandoned ; the inhabitants placed 
their aged and infirm, their wives and children, and their most 
precious effects, on mules and other beasts of burden, and, 
driving before them their flocks and herds, made for distant 
parts of the land ; for the fastnesses of the mountains, and for 
such of the cities as yet possessed waUs and bulwarks. Many 
gave out, faint and weary, by the way, and fell into the hands 
of the enemy ; others, at the distant sight of a turban or a 
Moslem standard, or on hearing the clangour of a trumpet, 
abandoned their flocks and herds and hastened their flight 
with their famflies. If their pursuers gained upon them, they 
thrcAV by their household goods and whatever was of burthen, 
and thought themselves fortunate to escape, naked and desti- 
tute, to a place of refuge. Thus the roads were covered with, 
scattered flocks and herds, and with spoil of aU kind. 

Tlie Arabs, however, were not guilty of wanton cruelty or 
ravage; on the contrary, they conducted themselves with a 
moderation but seldom witnessed in more civilized conquerors. 
Taric el Tuerto, though a thorough man of the sword, and one 

* In this legend most of the facts respecting the Arab inroads into Spain are on 
the authority of Arabian writers; wlio had the most accurate means of informa- 
tion. Tliose relative to the Spaniards are chiefl}' from old Spanish chronicles. It 
is to be remarked that the Arab accounts have most the air of verity, and the 
events as they relate them are in the ordinary course of common life. The Span- 
ish accounts, on the contrary, are full of the marvellous; for there were no greater 
romancers than the monkish chroniclers. 



74 LEGENDS OF TllK CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

whose whole thoughts were warhke, yet evinced wonderful 
judgment and discretion. He chocked the predatory habits of 
his troops witli a rigorous hand. Tliey were forbidden, under 
pain of severe punishment, to molest any peaceable and Tinfor- 
tiiied towns, or any unarmed and unresisting people, who re- 
mained quiet m their homes. No spoil was permitted to bo 
made excci^ting in fields of battle, m camps of routed foes, or 
in cities taken by the svv^ord. 

Taric had little need to exercise his severity ; his orders were 
obeyed through love, rather than fear, for he was the idol of 
Ills soldiery. They admired his restless and daring spirit, 
which nothing could dismay. His gaunt and sinewy form, 
his fiery eye, his visage seamed with scars, were suited to the 
hardihood of his deeds; and when mounted on his foamuig 
steed, careering the field of battle with quivering lance or 
flashing scimitar, his Arabs would greet him with shouts of 
enthusiasm. But what endeared him to them more than ail 
was his soldier-like contempt of gain. Conquest was his only 
passion ; glory the only reward he coveted. As to the spoil of 
the conquered, he shared it freely among his followers, and 
squandered his own portion with open-handed generosity. 

While Taric was pushing his triumphant course through 
Andalusia, tidings of his stupendous victory on the banks of 
the Guadalete were carried to Muza ben Nosier. Messengers 
after messengers arrived, vying who should most extol the 
achievements of the conqueror and the grandeur of the con- 
quest. "Taric," said they, "has overthrown the whole force 
of the unbelievers in one mighty battle. Their kuig is slain : 
thousands and tens of thousands of their warriors are de- 
stroyed ; the whole land hes at our mercy ; and city after city 
is surrendering to the victorious arms of Taric." 

The heart of Muza ben Nosier sickened at these tidings, and, 
instead of rejoicing at the success of the cause of Islam, he 
trembled with jealous fear lest the triumphs of Taric in Spain 
should eclipse his own victories in Africa. He despatched mis- 
sives to the Caliph Waled Almanzor, informing him of these 
new conquests, but taking the whole glory to himself, and 
making no mention of the services of Taric ; or at least, only 
mentioning him incidentally as a subordinate commander. 
" The battles," said he, "have been terrible as the day of judg- 
f.icnt; but by the aid of Allah we have gained the victory." 

He then prepared in all haste to cross over into Spain and 
> isiune the command of the conquering army ; and he wrote 



DEO END OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 75 

a letter in advance to interrupt Taric in the midst of his coxeer. 
"Wherever this letter may find thee," said he, "I charge thee 
halt with thy army and await my coming. Thy force is inade- 
quate to the subjugation of the land, and by rashly venturing, 
thou mayst lose every thing. I will be with thee speedily, 
with a remforcement of troops competent to so great an enter- 
prise." 

The letter overtook the veteran Taric while in the full glow 
of triumphant success; having overrun some of the richest 
parts of Andalusia, and just received the surrender of the city 
of Ecija. As he read the letter the blood mantled in his sun- 
burnt cheek and fire kindled in his eye, for he penetrated the 
motives of Muza. He suppressed his wrath, however, and 
turning with a bitter expression of forced composure to his 
captains, "Unsaddle your steeds," said he, "and plant your 
lances in the earth ; set up your tents and take your repose : 
for we must await tlie coming of the Wali with a mighty force 
to assist us m our conquest." 

The Arab warriors broke forth with loud murmurs at these 
words: "What need have wo of aid," cried they, "when the 
whole country is flj'ing before us ; and what better commander 
can Tv^e have than Taric to lead us on to victory?" 

Count Julian, also, who was present, now hastened to give 
his traitorous counsel. 

"Why pause," cried he, "at this precious moment? The 
great army of the G oths is vanquished, and their nobles are 
slaughtered or dispersed. Follow up your blow before the 
land 'can recover from its panic. Overrun the provinces, seize 
upon the cities, make yourseK master of the capital, and your 
conquest is complete. " * 

The advice of Jidian was applauded by all the Arab chief- 
tains, who were impatient of any interruption in their career of 
conquest. Taric was easily persuaded to what was the wish of 
his heart. Disregarding the letter of Muza, therefore, he pre- 
pared to pursue his victories. For this purpose he ordered a 
review of his troops on the plain of Ecija. Some were mounted 
on steeds which they had brought from Africa ; the rest he sup- 
plied with horses taken from the Christians. He repeated liis 
general orders, that they should inflict no wanton uijury, nor 
plunder any place that offered no resistance. They were for- 
bidden, also, to encumber themselves Avith booty, or even with 

*^Conde, p. 1, c. 10. 



76 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

provisions ; but were to scour the country with all speed, and 
seize upon all its fortresses and strong-holds. 

He then divided his host into three several armies. One he 
placed under the command of the Greek renegado, Magued el 
Evimi, a man of desperate courage ; and sent it against the an- 
cient city of Cordova. Another was sent against the city of 
Malaga, and was led by Zayd ben Kesadi, aided by the Bishop 
Oppas. The third was led by Tailc himself, and with this he 
determined to make a wide sweep thi'ough the kingdom.* 



CHAPTER II. 



CAPTURE OF GRANADA— SUBJUGATION OF THE ALPUXARRA 

MOUNTAINS. 

The terror of the arms of Taric ben Zeyad went before him ; 
and, at the same time, the report of his lenity to those who 
submitted without resistance. Wherever he appeared, the 
towns, for the most part, sent forth some of then- principal 
inhabitants to proffer a surrender ; for they were destitute of 
fortifications, and their fighting men had perished in battle. 
They were all received into allegiance to the caliph, and were 
protected from pillage or molestation. 

After marching some distance through the country, he 
entered one day a vast and beautiful plain, interspersed with 
villages, adoi-ned with groves and gardens, watered by wind- 
ing rivers, and surrounded by lofty mountains. It was the 
famous vega, or plain of Granada, destined to be for ages the 
favourite abode of the Moslems. "When the Arab conquerors 
beheld this delicious vega, they were lost in admiration ; for it 
seemed as if the Prophet had given them a paradise on earth, 
as a reward for their services in Ms cause. 

Taric approached the city of Granada, which had a formida- 
ble aspect, seated on lofty hills and fortified with Gothic walls 
and towers, and with the red castle or citadel, built in times of 
old by the Phoenicians or the Romans. As the Arab chieftain 
eyed the place, he was pleased with its stem warrior look, con- 
trasting with the smiling beauty of it? vega, and the freshness 
and voluptuous abundance of its hills and valleys. He pitched 

* Cronica de Espafia, de Alonzo el Sabio. P. 3, c. 1. 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 77 

his tents before its walls, and made preparations to attack it 
with all his force. 

The city, however, bore but the semblance of power. The 
flower of its youth had perished in the battle of the Gaudalete \ 
many of the principal inhabitants had fled to the mountains, 
and few remained in the city excepting old men, women, and 
children, and a number of Jews, which last were well disposed 
to take part with the conquerors. The city, therefore, readily 
capitulated, and was received into vassalage on favourable 
terms. The inhabitants were to retain their property, their 
laws, and their religion ; their churches and priests were to be 
respected; and no other tribute was required of them than 
such as they had been accustomed to pay to their Gothic 
kings. 

On taking possession of Granada, Taric garrisoned the tow- 
ers and castles, and left as alcayde or governor a chosen war- 
rior named Betiz Aben Habuz, a native of Arabia Fehx, who 
had distinguished himself by his valour and abilities. This 
alcayde subsequently made himself king of Granada, and built 
a palace on one of its hills ; the remains of which may be seen 
at the present day.f 

Even the dehghts of Granada had no power to detain the 
active and ardent Taric. To the east of the city he beheld a 
lofty chain of mountains, towering to the sky, and crowned 
with shining snow. These were the " Mountains of the Sun 
and Air ;" and the perpetual snows on their summits gave birth 
to streams that fertilized the plains. In their bosoius, shut up 
among cliffs and precipices, were many small valleys of great 
beauty and abundance. The inhabitants were a bold and 
hardy race, who looked upon their moimtains as everlastuag 

tTh« house shown as the ancient residence of Aben Ilahuz i.s called la Caan del 
Gallo, or the house of the weathercock; so named, says Pedraza, in his history of 
Granada, from a bronze figure of an Arab horseman, armed with lance and buck- 
ler, which once surmounted it, and which varied with every wind. On this warlike 
Weathercock was inscribed, in Arabic characters, 

Dice el sabio Aben Habuz 
Que asi se deflende el Andaluz. 

(In this way, says Aben Habuz the wise, 
The Andalusian his foe defies.) 

The Casa del Gallo, even until within twenty yeai-s, possessed two great halls 
beautifully decorated with morisco reliefs. It then caught fire and was so dam- 
aged as to require to be nearly rebuilt. It is now a manufactory of coarse canvas, 
and hns nothing of the Moorish character remaining. It commands a beautiful 
view of the city and the vega. 



78 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

fortresses that could never be taken. The inhabitants of tho 
surrounding country had fled to these natural fastnesses for 
refuge, and driven thither their flocks and herds. 

Taric felt that the dominion he had acquu-ed of the plains 
would be insecure until he had penetrated and subdued those 
haughty mountains. Leaving Abcn Habuz, therefore, in com- 
mand of Granada, he marched with liis army across the vega, 
and entered tho folds of the Sierra, which stretch towards the 
south. The inhabitants fled with afliright on hearing the 
Moorish trumpets, or beholding the approach of the turbancd 
horsemen, and x^lunged deeper into the recesses of their moun- 
tains. As the ai-my advanced, the roads became more and more 
rugged and difficult; sometimes climbing great rocky heights, 
and at other times descending abruptly into deep ravines, 
the beds of winter torrents. The mountains were strangely 
wild and sterile ; broken into cliffs and precipices of variegated 
marble. At their feet were little valleys enamelled with 
groves and gardens, interlaced with silver streams, and stud- 
ded with villages and hamlets ; but all deserted by their in- 
habitants. No one appeared to dispute the inroad of the 
Moslcm-S, who continued their march with increasing confi- 
dence, their j^ennons fluttering from rock and cliff, and the 
valleys echoing to the din of trumpet, drum, and cymbal. At 
length they came to a defile where the mountains seemed to 
have been rent asiuider to make way for a foaming torrent. 
The narrow and l^roken road wound along the dizzy edge of 
precipices, until it came to whore a bridge was thrown across 
the chasm. It was a fearful and gloomy pass ; great beetling 
cliffs overhung the road, and the torrent roared below. This 
awful defile has ever been famous in the warlike history of 
those mountams, by the name, in former times, of the Bar- 
ranco de Tocos, and at present of the bridge of Tablete. The 
Saracen army entered fearlessly into the j^ass; a part had 
already crossed the bridge, and was slowly toiling up the rug- 
ged road on the opposite side, when great shouts arose, aiul 
every cliff appeared suddenly peopled with furious foes. In 
an instant a deluge of missfles of every sort was rained upon 
the astonished ]\Ioslems. Darts, arrows, javelins, and stones, 
came whistling down, singling out the most conspicuous cava,- 
liei*s; and at times great masses of rock, bounding and thun- 
dering along the mountain side, crushed ^vhole ranks at once, 
or hurled horses and riders over the edge of the precipices. 

It was in vain to attempt to brave this mountain warfare. 



LEGEJS'D OF THE HUBJWGATWJS OF bTAIK 79 

The enemy were beyond the reach of missiles, and safe from 
pursuit ; and the horses of the Arabs were here an incumbrance 
rather than an aid. The trumpets sounded a retreat, and the 
army retired in tumult and confusion, harassed by the enemy 
until extricated from the defile. Taric, who had beheld cities 
and castles surrendering without a blow, was enraged at being 
braved by a mere horde of mountain boors, and made another 
attempt to penetrate the mountains, but was again waylaid 
and opposed with horrible slaughter. 

The fieiy son of Islnnael foamed with rage at being thus 
checked in his career and foiled in his revenge. He was on 
the point of abandoning the attempt, and returning to the 
vega, when a Christian boor sought liis camp, and was ad- 
mitted to his presence. The miserable wretch jDossessed a 
cabin and a little patch of ground among the mountains, and 
offered, if these should bo protected from ravage, to inform the 
Arab commander of a way by which troops of horse might 
be safely introduced mto the bosom of the sierra, and the 
whole subdued. The name of this caitiff was Fandino, and it 
deserves to be perpetually recorded with ignommy. His case 
is an instance how much it is in the power, at times, of the 
most insignificant bemg to do mischief, and how aU the valour 
of the magnanimous and the brave may be defeated by the 
treason of the selfish and the despicable. 

Instructed by this traitor, the Arab commander caused ten 
thousand foot-soldiers and four thousand horsemen, com- 
manded by a vahant captain, named Ibrahim Albuxarra, to 
be conveyed by sea to the little port of Adra, at the JMediter- 
ranean foot- of the mountains. Here they landed, and, giuded 
by the traitor, penetrated to the heart of the sierra, laying 
every thing* waste. The brave mountamcers, thus hemmed in 
between two armies, destitute of fortresses and without hope 
of succour, were obhged to capitulate ; but their valour was not 
without avail, for never, even m Spain, did vanquished people 
surrender on prouder or more honourable terms. We have 
named the wretch who betrayed his native mountains ; let us, 
equally, record the name of him whose pious patriotism saved 
them from desolation. It was the reverend Bishop Centerio. 
While the warriors rested on their arms m gi'im and menacing 
tranquillity among the cliffs, this venerable prelate descended 
to the Arab tents in the valley, to conduct the capitulation. In 
stipulating for the safety of his people, he did not forget that 
they were brave men, and that they still had weapons in their 



80 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

hands. He obtained conditions accordingly. It was agreed 
that they should be permitted to retain their houses, lands, 
and personal effects ; that they should be unmolested in their 
religion, and their temples and priests respected; and that 
tney should pay no other tribute than such as they had been 
accustomed to render to their kings. Should they prefer to 
leave the country and to remove to any part of Clu-istendom, 
they were to be allowed to sell their possessions ; and to take 
with them the money, and all their other effects. * 

Ibrahim Albuxarra remained in command of the territory, 
and the whole sierra, or chain of mountains, took his name, 
which has since been sHghtly corrupted into that of the 
Alpuxarras. The subjugation of this rugged region, however, 
was for a long time incomplete ; many of the Christians main- 
tained a wild and hostile independence, living in green glens 
and scanty valleys among the heights ; and the sierra of the 
Alpuxarras has, in all ages, been one of the most difficult parts 
of Andalusia to be subdued. 



CHAPTER III. 

EXPEDITION OF MAGUED AGAINST CORDOVA— DEFENCE OP THB 
PATRIOT PELISTES. 

While the veteran Taric was making this wide circuit 
through the land, the expedition under Magued the renegado 
proceeded against the city of Cordova. The inhabitants of 
that ancient place had beheld the great army of Don Roderick 
spreading like an inundation over the plain of the Guadal- 
quivir, and had felt confident that it must sweep the infidel 
invaders from the land. What then was their dismay, when 
scattered fugitives, wild with horror and affright, brought 
them tidings of the entire overthrow of that mighty host, and 
the disappearance of the king ! In the midst of their conster- 
nation, the Gothic noble, Pehstes, arrived at their gates, hag- 
gard with fatigue of body and anguish of mind, and leading 
a remnant of his devoted cavaliers, who had survived the 
dreadful battle of the Guadalete. The people of Cordova knew 
the vahant and steadfast spirit of Pelistes, and ralHed round 

* Pedraza, Hist. Granad. p. 3, c. 2. Bleda, Cronica, L. 2, c. 10. 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 81 

him as a last hope. "Roderick is fallen," cried they, "aud 
we have neither king nor captain ; be unto us as a sovereign ; 
take command of our city, and protect us in this hour of 
peril !" 

The heart of Pelistes was free from ambition, and was too 
much broken by grief to be flattered by the offer of command ; 
but he felt above every thing for the woes of his country, and 
was ready to assume any desperate service in her cause. 
"Your city," said he, " is surrounded by walls and towers, 
and may yet check the progress of the foe. Promise to stand 
by me till the last, and I will undertake your defence. " The 
inhabitants all promised implicit obedience and devoted zeal ; 
for what will not the inhabitants of a wealthy city promise 
and profess in a moment of alarm. The instant, however, 
that they heard of the approach of the Moslem troops, the 
wealthier citizens packed up their efi'ects and fled to the 
mountains, or to the distant city of Toledo. Even the monks 
collected the riches of their convents and churches, and fled. 
Pelistes, though he saw himself thus deserted by those who 
had the greatest interest in the safety of the city, yet deter- 
mined not to abandon its defence. He had still his faithful 
though scanty band of cavahers, and a number of fugitives of 
the army ; in aU amounting to about four hundred men. He 
stationed guards, therefore, at the gates and in the towers, 
and made every preparation for a desperate resistance. 

In the meantmie, the army of Moslems and apostate Chris- 
tians advanced, under the command of the Greek renegado, 
Magucd, and guided by the traitor Julian. While they were yet 
at some distance from the city, their scouts brought to them a 
shepherd, whom they had surprised on the banks of the Gua- 
dalquivir. The trembling hind was an inhabitant of Cordova, 
and revealed to them the state of the place, and the weakness 
of its garrison. 

"And the walls and gates," said Magued, "are they strong, 
and well guarded?" 

" The walls are high, and of wondrous strength," replied the 
shepherd, "and soldiers hold watch at the gates by day and 
night. But there is one place where the city may be secretly 
entered- In a part of the wall, not far from the bridge, the 
battlements are broken, and there is a breach at some height 
from the ground. Hard by stands a fig-tree, by the aid of 
which the wall may easily be scaled." 

Having received tlus information, l\Iagued halted with his 



Q2 LFMEND8 OF THE CONQUEL^ OF SPAIN. 

army, and sent forward several reneg•ad^ i Jhristians, partisans 
of Count Julian, who entered Cordova is if flying before the 
enemy. On a dark and temj)estuous n ght, the Moslems ap- 
proached to the end of the bridge wide' i crosses the Guadal- 
quivir, and remained in ambush. Magu id took a small party 
of chosen men, and, g-uided by the shephi rd, forded the stream 
and groped silently along the wall to the place where stood the 
fig-trce. The traitors, v/ho had f raudule atly entered the city, 
wei'c ready on the wall to render assistance. Magued orderea. 
his followers to make use of the long folds of their turbans 
instead of cords, and succeeded without difficulty in clamber- 
ing into the breach. 

Drawing tlieir scimitars, they now hastened to the gate 
which opened towards the bridge ; the guards, suspecting no 
assault from -within, vrere taken by surprise, and easily over- 
pov/ered : the gate w£is thrower open, and the army tho.t had 
remained in ambush, rushed over the bridge, and entered with - 
out opposition. 

The alarm had by this time spread throughout the city ; but 
already a torrent of armed men was pouring through the 
streets. Pehstcs sallied forth with his cavaliers and such of 
the soldiery as he could collect, and endeavoured to repel the 
foe; but every effort was in vain. The Cliiistians were slowly 
driven from street to streot, and square to square, disputing 
every inch of ground ; until, finding another body of the enemy 
ai^proaching to attack them in rea,r, thoy took refuge in a 
convent, and succeeded in throwing to and barring the pon- 
derous doors. The Moors attempted to force the gates, but 
were assailed with such showers of missiles fro7n the windows 
and battlements that they were obliged to retu-e. Pehstes 
examined the convent, and found it admu-ably calculated for 
defence. It was of great extent, with spacious coiu'ts and 
cloisters. The gates were massive, and secured with bolts 
and bars; the walls were of great thickness; the windows 
high and grated ; there was a great tank or cistern of water, 
and the friars, who had lied from the city, had left behind a 
good supply of provisions. Here, then, Pelistcs i^roposed to 
make a stand, and to endeavour to hold out until succour should 
arrive from some other city. His proposition was received 
with shouts by his loyal cavaliers : not one of whom but was 
ready to lay clow^ii his life in the service of his commander. 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 83 
CHAPTER IV. 

DEFENCE OF THE CONVENT OF ST. GEORGE BY PELISTES, 

For three long and anxious months did the good knight 
.Pehstes and his cavahers defend their sacred asykun against 
the repeated assaults of the infidels. The standard of the true 
faith was constantly displayed from the loftiest to^ver, and a 
fire blazed there throughout the night, as signals of distress to 
the surrounding country. The watchman from his turret kept 
a wary lookout over the land, hoping in every cloud of dust 
to descry the glittering helms of Christian warriors. The 
country, however, was forlorn and abandoned, or if per- 
chance a human being was perceived, it was some Arab horse- 
man, careering the plain of the Guadalquivii* as iea;riessly as 
if it were his native desert. 

By degi'ees the provisions of the convent were consumed, 
and the cavaliers had to slay their horses, one by one, for food. 
They suffered the wasting miseries of famine vv^ithout a mur- 
mur, and always met their commander with a smile. Pehstes, 
however, read their sufferings in their wan and emaciated 
countenances, and felt more for them than for himself. He 
was grieved at heart that such loyalty and valour should only 
lead to slavery or death, and resolved to make one desiderate 
attempt for their deliverance. Assembling them one day in 
the court of the convent, he disclosed to them his purpose. 

" Comi-ades and brothers in arms," said he, " it is needless to 
conceal danger from brave men. Our case is desperate ; our 
countrymen either know not or heed not our situation, or 
have not the means to help us. There is but one chance of 
escape; it is full of peril, and, as your leader, I claim the right 
to brave it. To-morrow at break of day I will sally forth 
and make for the city gates at the moment of their being 
opened; no one will suspect a solitary horseman; I shall be 
taken for one of those recreant christians who have basely 
mingled with the enemy. If I succeed in getting out of the 
city I will hasten to Toledo for assistance. In all events I shall 
be back in less than twenty days. Keep a vigilant lookout 
toward the nearest mountain. If you behold five lights blaz- 
mg upon its summit, be assured I am at liand with succour, 
and prepare yourselves to sally forth \vj)on the city as I attack 



84 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

the gates. Should I fail in obtaining aid, I will return to die 
with you." 

When he had finished, his warriors would fain have severally 
undertaken the enterprise, and they remonstrated against his 
exposing himself to such peril ; but he was not to be shaken 
from his purpose. On the following morning, ere the break 
of day, his horse was led forth, caparisoned, into the court of 
the convent, and Pelistes appeared in complete armour. As- 
sembling his cavaliers in the chapel, he prayed with them for 
some time before the altar ot the holy Virgin. Then rising 
and standing in the midst of them, "God knows, my com- 
panions," said he, "whether we have any longer a country; if 
not, better were we in our graves. Loyal and true have ye been 
to me, and loyal have ye been to my son, even to the hour of 
his death ; and grieved am I that I have no other means of 
proving my love for you, than by adventuring my worthless 
life for your deliverance. All I ask of you before I go, is a 
solemn promise to defend yourselves to the last like brave men 
and Christian cavaliers, and never to renounce your faith, or 
throw yourselves on the mercy of the renegade Magued, or the 
traitor Julian." They all pledged their words, and took a 
solemn oath to the same cifect before the altar. 

Pelistes then embraced them one by one, and gave them his 
benediction, and as he did so his heart yearned over them, for 
he felt towards them, not merely as a companion in arms and as 
a commander, but as a father ; and he took leave of them as if 
he had been going to his death. The Avarriors, on their part, 
crowded round hun in silcRce, kissing his hands and the hem 
of his surcoat, and many of the sternest shed tears. 

The gray of the dawning had just streaked the east, when 
Pelistes took lance in hand, hung his shield about his neck, 
and mounting his steed, issued quietly forth from a postern of 
the convent. He paced slowly through the vacant streets, and 
the tramp of his steed echoed afar in that silent hour ; but no 
one suspected a warrior, moving thus singly and tranquilly in 
an armed city, to be an enemy. He arrived at the gate just at 
the hour of opening ; a foraging party was entering with cattle 
and Avith beasts of burden, and he passed unheeded throvigh 
the throng. As soon as he was out of sight of the soldiers who 
guarded the gate, he quickened his pace, and at length, gallop- 
ing at full speed, succeeded in gaining the mountains. Here 
he paitsed, and alighted at a solitary farm-house to breathe his 
panting steed; but had scarce put foot to ground when he 



LEGEND OF TUE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 8 

heard the distant sound of pursuit, and beheld a horseman 
spurring up the mountain. 

Throwing himself again upon his steed, he abandoned the 
road and galloped across the rugged heights. The deep dry 
channel of a torrent checked his career, and his horse stum- 
bhng upon the margin, rolled with his rider to the bottom. 
Pehstes was sorely bruised by the fall, and his whole visage 
was bathed in blood. His horse, too, was maimed and unable 
to stand, so that there was no hope of escape. The enemy drew 
near, and proved to be no other than Magued, the renegado 
general, who had perceived him as he issued forth from the 
city, and had followed singly in pursuit. ' ' Well met, senor 
alcayde!" exclaimed he, "and overtaken in good time. Sur- 
render yourself my prisoner. " 

Pehstes made no other reply than by drawing his sword, 
bracing his sliield, and preparing for defence. Magued, though 
an apostate, and a fierce warrior, possessed some sparks of 
knightly magnanimity. Seeing his adversary dismounted, he 
disdained to take him at a disadvantage, but, alighting, tied 
his horse to a tree. 

The conflict that ensued was desperate and doubtful, for 
seldom had two warriors met so well matched or of equal 
prowess. Their shields were hacked to pieces, the ground was 
strewed with fragments of their armour, and stained with 
their blood. They paused repeatedly to take breath ; regard- 
ing each other with wonder and admiration. Pelistes, how- 
ever, had been previously injured by his faU, and fought to 
great disadvantage. The renegado perceived it, and sought not 
to slay him, but to take him ahve. Shifting his ground con- 
tinually, he wearied his antagonist, who was growing weaker 
and weaker from the loss of blood. At length Pelistes seemed 
to summon up aU his remaining strength to make a signal 
blow ; it was skilfully parried, and he fell prostrate upon the 
ground. The renegado ran up, and putting his foot upon his 
sword, and the point of his scimitar to his throat, called upon 
him to ask his life; but Pelistes lay without sense, and as one 
dead. Magued then unlaced the helmet of his vanquished 
enemy, and seated himself on a rock beside him, to recover 
breath. In this situation the warriors w^ero found by cer- 
tain Moorish cavaliers, who marvelled much at the ti*aces of 
that stern and bloody combat. 

Finding there was yet life in the Christian knight, they laid 
him upon one of their horses, and aiding Magued to remount 



S6 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

his steea, proceeded slowly to the city. As the convoy passed 
by the convent, the cavaliers looked forth and behelcl their 
commander borne along bleeding and a captive. Furious at 
the sight, they sallied forth to the rescue, but were repulsed by 
a superior force and driven back to the great portal of the 
church. The enemy entered pell-mell with them, fighting 
from aisle to aisle, from altar to altar, and in the courts and 
C-oisters of the convent. The greater part of the cavaliers 
died bravely, sword in hand; the rest were disabled with 
wounds and made prisoners. The convent, which was lately 
their castle, was now made their prison, and in after-times, in 
commemoration of this event, was consecrated by the name of 
St. George of the Captives. 



CHAPTER V. 



MEETING BT2TWEEN THE PATRIOT PELISTES AND THE TRAITOR 

JULIAN. 

The loyalty and prowess of the good knight Pelistes had 
gained him the reverence even of his enemies. He vv^as for a 
long time disabled by hiswounds, during which he was kindly 
treated by the Arab chieftains, who strove by every coiu'teous 
means to cheer his sadness and make him forget that he was 
a captive. When he was recovered from his wounds they 
gave him a magnificent banquet, to testify their admh-ation of 
his virtues. 

Pelistes appeared at the banquet clad in sable armour, and 
with a countenance pale and dejected, for the ills of his 
country evermore preyed upon his heart. Among the assem- 
bled guests was Count Julian, who held a high command in 
the Moslem army, and was arrayed in garments of mingled 
Christian and morisco fashion. Pelistes had been a close 
and bosom friend of Julian in former times, and had served 
with him in the wars in Africa, but when the count advanced 
to accost him with his wonted amity, he turned away in 
silence and deigned not to notice liim; neither, during the 
^vholo of the repast, did he address to him ever a word, but 
treated him as ojie unknown. 

When the banquet was neai-ly at a close, the discourse 
turned upon the events of the war, and the Moslem chieftains, 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 87 

in great courtesy, dwelt upon the merits of many of the Chris* 
tian cavahers who had fallen m battle, and all extolled the 
valour of those who had recently perished m the defence of the 
convent. Pehstes reniamed silent for a time, and checked the 
griet which swelled within his bosom as he thought of his de- 
voted cavahers. At length, litting up his voice, "Happy are 
the dead," said he, "for they rest in peace, and are gone to 
receive the reward of their piety and valour ! I could mourn 
over the loss of my companions in arms, but they have fallen 
with honom', and are spared the wretchedness I feel in 
witnessing the thraldom of my country. I have seen my only 
son, the pride and hope of my age, cut down at my side; I 
have beheld kindred, friends, and followers fallmg one by one 
around me, and ha^-e become so seasoned to those losses that I 
have ceased to weep. Yet there is one man over whose loss 1 
will never cease to grieve. He was the loved companion of 
my youth, and the steadfast associate of my graver years. He 
was one of the most loyal of Chiistian knights. As a friend 
be Avas loving and sincere ; as a warrior his achievements were 
above all praise. What has become of hun, alas ! I know not. 
If fallen in battle, and I knew where his bones were laid, 
whether bleaching on the plains of Xeres, or buried in the 
waters of the Guadalete, I woiild seek them out and enshrine 
them as the reUcs of a sainted patriot. Or if, like many of his 
companions in arms, he should be driven to wander in foreign 
lands, I would join him in his hapless exile, and we would 
mourn together over the desolation of our country." 

Even the hearts of the Arab warriors were touched by the 
lament of the good Pehstes, and they said — "Who was this 
peerless friend inAvhose praise thou art so fervent?" 

" His name," replied Pelistcs, "was Count Julian." 

The Moslem warriors stared with surprise. "Noble cava- 
liei"," exclaimed they, "has gi'ief disorderevl thy senses? Be- 
hold thy friend living and standing before thee, and yet thou 
dost not know him ! This, this is Count Julian !" 

Unon this, Pelistes turned his eyes upon the count, and 
regarded him for a time with a lofty and stern demeanour; 
and the countenance of Julian darkoucd, and Avas troubled, 
anrl his eye sank beneath the regard of that loyal and honour- 
able oavalier. And Pelistes said, "In the name of God, I 
charge thee, man unknoAATi! to ansAA^er. Dost thou presume 
to call thyself Count .lulian?" 

The count reddened AAith anger at these words. "Pelistes," 



88 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

said he, "what means this mockery? thou knowest me well; 
thou knowest me for Count Julian." 

" I know thee for a base impostor !" cried Pelistes. "Count 
Julian was a noble Gothic knight ; but thou appearest in mon- 
grel Moorish garb. Count Julian was a Christian, faitliful and 
devout ; but I behold in thee a renegade and an infidel. Count 
Julian was ever loyal to his king, and foremost in his coun- 
try's cause ; were he living he would be the first to put shiela 
on neck and lance in rest, to clear the land of her invaders ; 
but thou art a hoary traitor ! thy hands are stained with the 
royal blood of the Goths, and thou hast betrayed thy country 
and thy God! Therefore, I again repeat, man unknown! if 
thou sayest thou art Count Julian, thou liest! My friend, 
alas! is dead; and thou art some fiend from hell, which hast 
taken possession of his body to dishonour his memory and 
render Mm an abhorrence among men!" So saying, Pelistes 
turned his back upon the traitor, and went forth from the 
banquet; leaving Count Julian overwhelmed with confusion, 
and an object of scorn to all the Moslem cavaliers. 



CHAPTER VI. 



HOW TARIC EL TUERTO CAPTURED THE CITY OF TOLEDO THROUGH 
THE AID OF THE JEWS, AND HOW HE FOUND THE FAMOUS 
TALISMANIC TABLE OP SOLOJION. 

While these events were passing in Cordova, the one-eyed 
Arab general, Taric el Tuerto, having subdued the city and 
vega of Granada, and the Mountains of the Sun and Air, 
directed his march into the interior of the kingdom, to attack 
the ancient city of Toledo, the capital of the Gothic kings. So 
gi-eat was the terror caused by the rapid conquests of the 
invaders, that at the very rumour of their approach, many 
of the inhabitants, though thus in the very citadel of the 
kingdom, abandoned it and fled to the mountains with their 
families. Enough remained, however, to have made a formi- 
dable defence ; and. as the city was seated on a lofty rock, 
surrounded by massive walls and towers, and almost girdled 
by the Tagus, it threatened a long resistance. The Arab 
warriors pitched their tents in the vega, on the borders of 
the river, and prepared for a tedious siege. 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SFAJN. 89 

One evening, as Taric was seated in his tent meditating on 
the mode in which he should assail this rock-buUt city, certain 
of the patrols of the camp brought a stranger before him. 
"As we were going our rounds," said they, "we beheld this 
man lowered down with cords from a tower, and he dehvered 
himself into our hands, praying to be conducted to thy 
presence, that he might reveal to thee certain things im- 
portant for thee to know." 

Taric fixed his eyes upon the stranger: he was a Jewish 
rabbi, with a long beard which spread upon his gabardine, and 
descended even to his girdle. "What hast thou to reveal?" 
said he to the Israelite. "What I have to reveal," repHed the 
other, "is for thee alone to hear; command then, I entreat 
thee, that these men withdraw. " When they were alone he 
addressed Taric in Arabic: "Know, O leader of the host of 
Islam," said he, "that I am sent to thee on the part of the 
children of Israel resident in Toledo. We have been oppressed 
and insulted by the Christians in the time of their prosperity, 
and now that they are threatened with siege, they have taken 
from us all our provisions and our money; they have com- 
pelled us to work like slaves, repairing their walls ; and they 
oblige us to bear arms and guard a part of the towers. We 
abhor their yoke, and are ready, if thou wilt receive us as 
subjects and permit us the free enjoyment of our religion and 
our property, to deliver the towers we guard into thy hands, 
and to give thee safe entrance into the city." 

The Arab chief was overjoyed at this proposition, and he 
rendered much honour to the rabbi, and gave orders to clothe 
him in a costly robe, and to perfume his beard with essences 
of a pleasant odour, so that he was the most sweet smelling of 
his tribe ; and he said, ' ' Make thy words good, and put me in 
possession of the city, and I will do all and more than thou 
hast required, and will bestow countless wealth upon thee and 
thy brethren." 

Then a plan was devised between them by which the city 
was to be betrayed and given up. "Btit how shall I be 
secured," said he, "that all thy tribe will fulfil what thou 
hast engaged, and that this is not a stratagem to get me 
and my people into your power ?" 

"Tliis shall be thy assurance, " replied the rabbi: "Ten of 
the principal IsraeUtes will come to this tent and remain 
as hostages." 

"It is enough," said Taric; and he made oath to accomplish 



90 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

all that he had promised ; and the Jewish hostages came and 
delivered themselves into his hands. 

On a dark night, a chosen band of Moslem warriors ap 
proached the part of the walls guarded by the Jews, and wer^ 
secretly admitted into a postern gate and concealed within a 
tower. Three thousand Arabs were at the same time placed 
in ambush among rocks and thickets, in a place on the op- 
I^osite side of the river, commanding a view of the city. On 
the following morning Taric ravaged the gardens of the valley, 
and set fire to the farm-houses, and then breaking up his camp 
marched off as if abandoning the siege. 

The people of Toledo gazed with astonishment from their 
■walls at the retiring squadrons of the enemy, and scarcely 
could credit their unexpected deliverance; before night there 
was not a turban nor a hostile lance to be seen in the vega. 
They attributed it all to the special mtervention of their 
patron saint, Leocadia; and the following day being palm 
Sunday, they sallied forth in procession, man, woman, and 
child, to the church of that blessed saint, which is situated 
without the walls, that they might return thanks for her 
marvellous protection. 

When all Toledo had thus poured itself forth, and was 
marching with cross and relic and solemn chaunt towards 
the chapel, the Arabs, who had been concealed in the tower, 
rushed forth and barred the gates of the city. While some 
guarded the gates, others dispersed themselves about the 
streets, slaying all who made resistance; and others kindled 
a fire and made a column of smoke on the top of the citadel. 
At sight of this signal, the Arabs, m ambush, beyond the 
river, rose with a great shout, and attacked the multitude 
who were thronging to the church of St. Leocadia. There 
■was a great massacre, although the people were "without 
arms, and made no resistance; and it is said, in ancient 
chronicles, that it was the apostate Bishop Oppas who guided 
the Moslems to their prey, and incited them to this slaughter. 
The pious reader, says Fray Antonio Agapida, will be slow to 
beheve such turpitude; but there is nothing more venomous 
than the ran?our of an apostate priest; for the best things 
in this world, when corrupted, become the worst and most 
baneful. 

Many of the Christians had taken refuge within the church, 
and had barred the doors, but Oppas conmianded that fire 
should be set to the portals, threatening to put every one 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 91 

within to the sword. HappUy the veteran Taric arrived 
just in time to stay the fury of this reverend renegado. He 
ordered the trumpets to call off the troops from the carnage, 
and extended grace to all the surviving inhabitants. They 
were permitted to remain in quiet possession of their homes 
and effects, paying only a moderate tribute ; and they were 
allowed to exercise the rites of their rehgion in the existing 
churches, to the nmnber of seven, but were prohibited from 
erecting any others. Those who preferred to leave the city, 
were suffered to depart in safety, but not to take with them 
any of their wealth. 

Immense spoil was found by Taric in the alcazar, or royal 
castle, situated on a rocky eminence, in the highest part of the 
city. Among the regaha treasured up in a secret chamber, 
were twenty-five regal crowns of fine gold, garnished with 
jacynths, amethysts, diamonds, and other precious stones. 
These were the crowns of the different Gothic kings who had 
reigned in Spain ; it having been the usage, on the death of 
each king, to deposit his crown in this treasury, inscribing on 
it his name and age. * 

When Taric was thus in possession of the city, the Jews 
came to him in procession, with songs and dances and the 
sound of timbrel and psaltery, haihng him as their lord, and 
reminding him of his promises. 

The son of Ishmael kept his word with the children of Israel ; 
they wore protected in the possession of all their wealth and 
the exercise of their religion, and were, moreover, rewarded 
with jewels of gold and jewels of silver, and much moneys. t 

A subsequent expedition Avas led by Taric against Gruadalax- 
ara, which surrendered without resistance ; he moreover cap- 
tured the city of Medina Celi, where he found an inestimable 
table which had formed a part of the spoil taken at Rome by 
Alaric, at the time that the sacred city was conquered by the 
Goths. It was composed of one single and entire emerald, and 
possessed talismanic powers ; for traditions affirm that it was 
the work of genii, and had been wrought by them for King 
Solomon the wise, the son of Da^dd. This marvellous relic 
was carefully preserved by Taric, as the most precious of all 
his spoils, being intended by him as a present to the caliph ; 



* Conde, Hist, de las Ai'abes en EspaHa, c. 18. 

+ The stratagem of the Jews of Toledo is recorded briefly by Bishop Lucas de 
Tuy, in his chronicle, but is related at large in the chronicle of the Bloor Uasis. 



92 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

and in commemoration of it the city was called by the Arabs, 
Medina Almeyda; that is to say, " The City of the Table."* 

Having made these and other conquests of less importance, 
and having collected great quantities of gold and silver, and 
rich stuffs and precious stones, Taric returned with his booty 
to the royal city of Toledo. 



CHAPTER VII. 



MUZA. BEN NOSIER; HIS ENTRANCE INTO SPAIN, AND CAPTURE OF 

CARMONA. 

Let us leave for a season the bold Taric in his triumphant 
progress from city to city, while we turn our eyes to Muza ben 
Nosier, the renowned Emir of Almagreb, and the commander- 
in-chief of the Moslem forces of the west. When that jealous 
chieftain had despatched his letter commanding Taric to pause 
and await his coming, he immediately made every preparation 
to enter Spain with a powerful reinforcement, and to take 
command of the conquering army. He left his eldest son, 
Abdalasis, in Caervan, with authority over Almagreb, or 
Western Africa. This Abdalasis was in the flower of his 
youth, and beloved by the soldiery for the magnanimity and 
the engaging affability which graced his courage. 

Muza ben Nosier crossed the strait of Hercules with a chosen 
force of ten thousand horse and eight thousand foot, Arabs 
and Africans. He was accompanied by his two sons, Meruan 
and Abdelola, and by numerous illustrious Arabian cavaliers 
of the tribe of the Koreish. He landed his shining legions on 
the coast of Andalusia, and pitched his tents near to the Gua- 
diana. There first he received intelligence of the disobedience 
of Taric to his orders, and that, Avithout waiting liis arrival, 
the impetuous chieftain had continued his career, and with his 
light Arab squadrons had overnm and subdued the noblest 
pro%4nces and cities of the kingdom. 

•According to Arabian legends, this table wasa mirror revealing all great events; 
insomuch that by looking on it the possessor might behold battles and sieges and 
feats of chivalry, and all actions worthy of renown; and might tlius ascertain the 
truth of all historic transactions. It was a mirror of historj', therefore ; and had 
vei-y probably aided King Solomon m acquiring that prodigious knowledge and 
wiBdom for which he was renowned. 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF IS PAIN. 93 

The jealous spirit of Muza was still more exasperated by 
those tidings ; he looked upon Taric no longer as a friend and 
coadjutor, but as an invidious rival, the decided enemy of his 
glory ; and he determined on his ruin. His first consideration, 
however, was to secure to himself a share in the actual con- 
quest of the land before it should be entirely subjugated. 

Taking guides, therefore, from among his Christian captives, 
he set out to subdue such parts of the country as had not been 
visited by Taric. The first place which he assailed was the 
ancient city of Carmona ; it was not of great magnitude, but 
was fortified with high walls and massive towers, and many of 
the fugitives of the late army had thrown themselves into it. 

The Groths had by this time recovered from their first panic ; 
they had become accustomed to the sight of Moslem troops, 
and their native courage had been roused by danger. Short- 
ly after the Arabs had encamped before their waUs, a band 
of cavaliers made a sudden sally one morning before the 
break of day, fell upon the enemy by surprise, killed above 
three himdred of them in their tents, and efEected their retreat 
into the city; leaving twenty of their number dead, covered 
with honourable wounds, and in the very centre of the camp. 

On the following day they made another sally, and fell on a 
different quarter of the encampment ; but the Arabs were on 
their guard, and met them with superior numbers. After 
fighting fiercely for a time, they were routed, and fled full 
speed for the city, with the Arabs hard upon their traces. 
The guards within feared to open the gate, lest with their 
friends they should admit a torrent of enemies. Seeing them- 
selves thus shut out, the fugitives determined to die like brave 
soldiers rather than surrender. Wheeling suddenly round, 
they opened a path through the host of their pursuers, fought 
their way back to the camp, and raged about it with desperate 
fury until they were all slain, after having killed above eight 
hundi-ed of the enemy.* 

Muza now ordered that the place should be taken by storm. 
The Moslems assailed it on all sides, but were vigorously re- 
sisted; many were slain by showers of stones, arrows, and 
boihng pitch, and many who had mounted with scaling lad- 
dei'S were thrown headlong from the battlements. The al- 
cayde, Galo, aided solely by two men, defended a tower and a 
portion of the wall; killing and wounding wath a cross-bow 

* Abulcasim, Perdida de EspaKa, L. 1, c. 13. 



94 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

more than eighty of the enemy. The attack lasted above half 
a day, when the Moslems were repulsed with the loss of fifteen 
hundred men. 

Muza was astonished and exasperated at meeting with such 
a formidable resistance from so small a city ; for it was one of 
the few places, during that memorable conquest, where the 
Gotliic valour shone forth with its proper lustre. While the 
Moslem army lay encamped before the place, it was jomed by 
Magued the renegado, and Count Julian the ti-aitor, with one 
thousand horsemen ; most of them recreant Christians, base 
betrayers of their country, and more savage in theu' warfare 
than the Arabs of the desert. To find favour in the eyes 
of Muza, and to evince his devotion to the cause, the count 
undertook, by wily stratagem, to put this gallant city in his 
power. 

One evening, just at twilight, a number of Christians, 
habited as travelling merchants, arrived at one of the gates, 
conducting a train of mules laden with arms and warlike 
munitions. "Open the gate quickly," cried they; "webrmg 
supphes for the garrison, but the Arabs have discovered, and 
are in pursuit of us." The gate was thrown open, the mer- 
chants entered with their beasts of burden, and were joyfidly 
received. Meat and drink were placed before them, and after 
they had refreshed themselves they retired to the quarters 
allotted to them. 

These pretended merchants were Count Julian and a number 
of his partisans. At the hour of midnight they stole forth 
silently, and assembhng together, proceeded to what was 
called the Gate of Cordova. Here setting suddenly upon the 
unsuspecting guards, they put them to the edge of the sAvord, 
and throwing open the gates, admitted a great body of the 
Arabs. The inhabitants were roused from their sleep by sound 
of drum and trumpet, and the clattering of horses. The Arabs 
scoured the streets; a horrible massacre was commenced, in 
which none were spared but such of the females as were young 
and beautiful, and fitted to gi-ace the harems of the conquerors. 
The arrival of Muza put an end to the pillage and the slaugh- 
ter, and he gi'anted favourable terms to the survivors. Thus 
the vahant little city of Carmona, after nobly resisting the 
open assaults of the infidels, fell a victim to th3 treachery of 
apostate Christians.* 

* Cron.. gen. de Espafia, por Alonzo el Sabio . P. 3, c. 1 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 95 

CHAPTER VIII. 

MUZA MARCHES AGAINST THE CITY OF SEVILLE. 

After the capture of Carmona, Muza descended into a noble 
plain, covered with fields of grain, with orchards and garden^^, 
through which ghded the soft-flowing Guadalquivir. On the 
borders of the river stood the ancient city of Seville, sur- 
rounded by Roman walls, and defended by its golden tower. 
Understanding from his spies that the city had lost the flower of 
its youth in the battle of the Guadalete, Muza anticipated but a 
faint resistance. A considerable force, however, still remained 
within the place, and what they wanted m numbers they made 
up in resolution. For some days they withstood the assaults 
of the enemy, and defended their walls with great courage. 
Their want of warlike munitions, however, and the superior 
force and skill of the besieging army, left them no hope of 
being able to hold out long. There were two youthful cava- 
liers of uncommon valour in the city. They assembled the 
warriors and addressed them. "We cannot save the city," 
said they; "but at least we may save ourselves, and preserve 
so many strong arms for the service of our country. Let us 
cut our way through the infidel force and gain some secure 
fortress, from whence we may return with augmented num- 
bers for the rescue of the city." 

The advice of the young cavaliers was adopted. In the 
dead of the night the garrison assembled to the number of 
about three thousand; the most part mounted on horseback. 
Suddenly sallying from one of the gates, they rushed m a com- 
pact body upon the camp of the Saracens, which was negh- 
gently guarded, for the Moslems expected no such act of 
desperation. The camp was a scene of great carnage and 
confusion; many were slain on both sides; the two valiant 
leaders of the Christians fell covered with wounds, but the 
main body succeeded in forcing their way through the centre 
of the army, and in making their retreat to Beja in Lusitania. 

Muza was at a loss to know the meaning of this despci-ate 
sally. "In the mot-ning he perceived the gates of the city wide 
open. A number of ancient and venerable men presented 
themselves at his tent, offering submission and imploring 
mercy, for none were left in the place but the old, the infirm, 
and the miserable. Muza Hstened to them with compassion. 



90 LEQEJS'DS OF THE VOJSQUEST OF t^FAIJS. 

and granted their prayer, and the only tribute ho exacted was 
three measures of wheat and thi-ee of barley from ea(;h house 
or family. He placed a garrison of Arabs in the city, and left 
there a number of Jews to form a body of population. Having 
thus secured two important places in Andalusia, he passed the 
boundaries of the province, and advanced with great martial 
pomp into Lusitaiua. 



CHAPTER IX. 

MUZA BESIEGES THE CITY OF MERIDA. 

The army of Muza was now augmented to about eighteen 
thousand horsemen, but he took with him but few toot-sol- 
diers, leaving them to garrison the conquered towns. He met 
with no i-esistance on his entrance into Lusitania. City after 
city laid its keys at his feet, and implored to be received into 
peaceful vassalage. One city alone prepared for vigorous de- 
fence, the ancient Merida, a place of great extent, uncounted 
riches, and prodigious streng-th. A noble Goth named Sacarus 
was the governor ; a man of consummate wisdom, patriotism, 
and valour. Hearing of the approach of the invaders, he 
gathered witliin the walls all the people of the surrounding 
country, with their horses and mules, their flocks and herds 
and most precious effects. To insure for a long time a supply 
of bread, he filled the magazines with grain, and erected wind- 
mills on the churches. This done, he laid waste the surround- 
ing country to a gi-eat extent, so that a besieging army Avoidd 
have to encamp in a desert. 

When Muza came in sight of this magnificent city, he was 
struck with admiration. He remained for some time gazing 
in silence upon its mighty walls and lordly towers, its vast ex- 
tent, and the stately palaces and temples with which it was 
adorned. "Surely," cried he, at length, "all the people of the 
earth have combined their power and skill to embellish and 
aggrandize this city. Allah Achbar! Happy will he be who 
shall have the glory of making such a conquest !" 

Seeing that a place so populous and so strongly fortified 
would be likely to maintain a long and formidable resistance, 
he sent messengers to Africa to his son Abdalasis, to collect all 



LEGEND OF TllK SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 97 

the forces that could be spared from the garrisons of Mauri* 
tania, and to hasten and reinforce him. 

While Muza was forming his encampment, deserters trom 
the city brougiit him word that a chosen band intended to 
sally forth at midnight and surprise his camp. The Arab com- 
mander innnediately took measures to receive them with a 
counter siu-prise. Plavmg formed his plan, and communicated 
it to his principal officers, he ordered that, throughout the day, 
there should be kept up an appearance of negligent confusion 
in his encampment. The outposts were feebly guarded ; fires 
were lighted in various places, as if preparing for feasting; 
bursts of music and shouts of revelry resounded from different 
quarters, and the whole camp seemed to be rioting in careless 
secuiity on the plunder of the land. As the night advanced, 
the fires were gi-adually extinguished, and silence ensued, as if 
the soldiery had sunk into deep sleep after the carousal. 

In the meantime, bodies of troops had been secretly and 
silently marched to remf orce the outposts ; and the renegado 
Magued, with a numerous force, had formed an ambuscade in 
a deep stone quarry by which the Christians would have to 
pass. These preparations being made, they awaited the ap- 
proach of the enemy in breathless silence. 

About midnight, the chosen force intended for the sally 
assembled, and the command was confided to Count Tendero, 
a Gothic cavalier of tried prowess. After having heard a 
solenm mass and received the benediction of the priest, they 
marched out of the gate with all possible silence. They were 
suffered to pass the ambuscade in the quarry without molesta^ 
tion; as they approached the Moslem camp, ev^ery thing ap- 
peared quiet, for the foot-soldiers were concealed in slopes and 
hollows, and every Arab horseman lay in his armour beside 
his steed. The sentinels on the outposts waited until the 
Christians were close at hand, and then fled in apparent con- 
sternation. 

Count Tendero gave the signal for assault, and the Chris- 
tians rushed confidently forward. In an instant an uproar of 
drums, trumpets, and shrill war-cries burst forth frora every 
side. An army seemed to spring up from the earth ; squadrons 
of horse came thundering on them in front, while the quarry 
poured forth legions of armed warriors in their rear. 

The noise of the terrific conflict that took place was heard on 
the city walls, and answered by shouts of exultation, for the 
Christians thought it rose from the terror and confusion of tho 



r,S LKGENDH OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

Arab camp. In a little while, however, they were undeceived 
by fugitives from the fight, aghast with terror, and covered 
with wounds. "Hell itself," cried they, "is on the side of 
these infidels; the earth casts forth warriors and steeds to aid 
them. We have fought, not with men, but devils !" 

The greater part of the chosen troops who had salhed, were 
cut to pieces in that scene of massacre, for they had been con- 
founded by the tempest of battle wliich suddenly broke forth 
around them. Count Tendero fought with desperate valour, 
and fell covered with wounds. His body was found the next 
morning, lying among the slain, and transpierced with half a 
score of lances. The renegado Magued cut off his head and 
tied it to the tail of his horse, and repaired with this savage 
trophy to the tent of Muza ; but the hostility of the Arab gen- 
eral was of a less malignant kind. He ordered that the head 
and body should be placed together upon a bier and treated 
with becoming reverence. 

In the course of the day a train of priests and friars came 
forth from the city to request permission to seek for the body 
of the count. Muza delivered it to them, with many soldier- 
like encomiums on the valour of that good cavalier. The 
priests covered it with a paU of cloth of gold, and bore it back 
in melancholy procession to the city, where it was received 
with loud lamentations. 

The siege was now pressed with great vigour, and repeated 
assault? were made, but in vain. Muza saw, at length, that the 
walls were too high to be scaled, and the gates too strong to be 
burst open without the aid of engines, and he desisted from 
the attack until machines for the purpose could be constructed. 
The governor suspected from this cessation of active warfare, 
that the enemy flattered themselves to reduce the place by fa- 
mine ; he caused, therefore, large baskets of bread to be thrown 
from the wall, and sent a messenger to Muza to inform him that 
if his army should be in want of bread, he would supply it, hav- 
ing sufficient corn in his granaries for a ten years' siege.* 

The citizens, however, did not possess the undaunted spirit 
of their governor. When they found that the Moslems wore 
constructing tremendous engines for the destruction of their 
walls, they lost all courage, and, surrounding the governor in 
a clamorous multitude, compelled him to send forth persons to 
capitulate. 

* Bleda, Cronica, L. 2. c, ii. 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 99 

The ambassadors came into the presence of Muza with awe, 
for they expected to find a fierce and formidable warrior in 
one who had filled the land with terror ; but to their astonish- 
ment, they beheld an ancient and venerable man, with white 
hair, a snowy beard, and a pale emaciated countenance. He 
had passed the previous night without sleep, and had been all 
day in the field ; he was exhausted, therefore, by watchfulness 
and fatigue, and his garments were covered with dust. 

"What a devil of a man is this," murmured the ambassa- 
dors, one to another, ' ' to undertake such a siege when on the 
verge of the grave. Let us defend our city the best way we 
can ; surely we can hold out longer than the life of this gray- 
beard." 

They returned to the city, therefore, scofiing at an invader 
who seemed fitter to lean on a crutch than wield a lance ; and 
the terms offered by Muza, which would otherwise have been 
thought favourable, were scornfully rejected by the inhabitants. 
A few days put an end to this mistaken confidence. Abdalasis, 
the son of Muza, arrived from Africa at the head of liis rein- 
forcement ; he brought seven thousand horsemen and a host of 
Barbary archers, and made a glorious display as he marched 
into the camp. The arrival of this youthful warrior was 
hailed with great acclamations, so much had he won the hearts 
of the soldiery by the frankness, the suavity, and generosity 
of his conduct. Immediately after his arrival a gi-and assault 
was made upon the city, and several of the huge battering 
engines being finished, they were wheeled up and began to 
thunder against the walls. 

The unsteady populace were again seized with terror, and, 
surrounding their governor with fresh clamours, obhged him 
to send forth ambassadors a second time to treat of a surrender. 
When admitted to the presence of Muza, the ambassadors 
could scarcely beheve their eyes, or that this was the same 
withered, white-headed old man of whom they had lately 
spoken with scoffing. His hair and beard were tinged of a 
ruddy brown; his countenance was refreshed by repose and 
flushed with indignation, and he appeared a man in the 
matured vigour of his days. The ambassadors were stiiick 
with awe. " Surely," whispered they, one to the other, "this 
must be either a devil or a magician, who can thus make him- 
self old and young at pleasure. " 

Muza received them haughtily. " Hence," said he, "and tell 
your people I grant them the sanie terms I have already prof- 



100 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

fered, provided the city be instantly surrendered ; but, by tho 
head of Mahomet, if there be any further delay, not one 
mother's son of ye shall receive mercy at my hands !" 

The deputies returned into the city pale and dismayed. 
"Go forth! go forth!" cried they, "and accept whatever 
terms are offered ; of what avail is it to fight against men who 
can renew their youth at pleasure? Behold, we left the leader 
of the infidels an old and feeble man, and to-day we find him 
youthful and vigorous. " * 

The place was, therefore, surrendered forthwith, and Muza 
entered it in triumph. His terms were merciful. Those who 
chose to remain were protected in persons, possessions, and 
religion ; he took the property of those only who abandoned 
the city or had fallen in battle; together with all arms and 
horses, and the treasures and ornaments of the churches. 
Among these sacred spoils was found a cup made of a single 
pearl, which a king of Spain, in ancient times, had brought 
from the temple of Jerusalem when it was destroyed Dy 
Nabuchodonosor. This precious relic was sent by Muza 'o the 
caliph, and was placed in the principal mosque of the city of 
Damascus, t 

Muza knew how to esteem merit even in an enemy. When 
Sacarus, the governor of Merida, appeared before him, he 
lauded him gTeatly for the skill and courage he had displayed 
in the defence of his city ; and, taking off *his own scimitar, 
which was of gi^at value, girded it upon him with his own 
hands. "Wear this," said he, "as a poor memorial of my 
admiration ; a soldier of such virtue and valour is worthy of 
far higher honours." 

He would have engaged the governor in his service, or have 
persuaded him to remain in the city, as an illustrious vassal of 
the caliph, but the .loble-.ninded Sacarus refused to bend to the 
yoke of the conquerors; nor covJd he bi-ing himself to reside 
■uontexitt Jly in his couui-iy, when subjected to the domination 
of the infidels. Gathering together all those who chose to 
ac«,ompany liim into exile, he embarked to seek some country 
where he might five in peace and in the free exercise of his 
religion. What shore these ocean pUgrims landed upon has 
never been revealed ; but tradition vaguely gives us to believe 

* Conde. p. 1, c. 13. Ambrosio de Morales. N. B. — In the chronicle of Fpain. 
composed by order of Alonzo the Wise, this anecdote is given as having happened 
at the siege of Seville. 

+ Marmol. Descrip. de Africa, T. 1, L. 3. 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 101 

that it was some unknown island far in the bosom of the 
Atlantic* 



CHAPTER X. 



EXPEDITION OF ABDALASIS AGAINST SEVILLE AND THE "LAND 
OF TADMIR." 

After the capture of Merida, Muza gave a grand banquet 
to his captains and distinguished warriors in that magnificent 
city. At this martial feast were many Arab cavaMers who had 
been present in various battles, and they vied with each other 
in recounting the daring enterprises in which they had been 
engaged, and the splendid triumphs they had witnessed. While 
they talked with ardour and exultation, Abdalasis, the son of 
Muza, alone kept silence, and sat with a dejected countenance. 
At length, when there was a pause, he turned to his father 
and addressed him with modest earnestness. "My lord and 
father," said he, "I blush to hear yom- warriors recount the 
toils and dangers they have passed, while I have done nothing 
to entitle me to their companionship. When I return to Egypt 
and present myself oefore the caliph, he will ask me of my 
services in Spain; what battle I have gained; what town or 
castle I have taken. How shall I answer hun? If you love 
me, then, as your son, give me a command, entrust to me 
an entesprise, and let me acquire a name worthy to be men- 
tioned among men. " 

The eyes of Muza kindled with joy at finding Abdalasis thus 
ambitious of reno^vn in arms. " AUah be praised!" exclaimed 
he, ' ' the heart of my son is in the right place. It is becoming 
in youth to look upwards and be aspiring. Thy desire, Ab- 
dalasis, shall be gratified." 

An opportunity at that very time presented itself to prove 
the prowess and discretion of the youth. During the siege of 
Merida, the Christian troops which had taken refuge at Beja 
had reinforced themselves from Peflaflor, and suddenly return- 
ing, had presented themselves before the gates of the city of 
Seville.t Certain of the Christian inhabitants threw open the 



* Abulcasim, Perdida de Espai5a, L. 1, c. 13. 
t Espinosa, AntQ. y Grand.jie Seville, L. 2, c. 3. 



102 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN 

gates and admitted them. The troops rushed to the alcazar, 
took it by surprise, and put many of the Moslem garrison to 
the sAvord; the residue made their escape, and fled to the 
Arab camp before Merida, leaving Seville in the hands of the 
Christians. 

The veteran Muza, now that the siege of Merida was at an 
end, was meditating the recapture and pimishrbent of SeviUe at 
the very tune when Abdalasis addressed him. " Behold, my 
son," exclaimed he, "an enterprise worthy of thy ambition! 
Take with thee all the troops thou hast brought from Africa; 
reduce the city of Seville again to subjection, and plant thy 
standard upon its alcazar. But stop not there : carry thy con- 
quering sword into the southern parts of Spain ; thou "svill find 
there a harvest of glory yet to be reaped." 

Abdalasis lost no time in departing upon this enterprise. 
He took with him Count Juhan, Magued el Rumi, and the 
Bishop Oppas, that he might benefit by their knowledge of the 
country. When he came in sight of the fan- city of Seville, 
seated like a queen in the midst of its golden plain, with the 
Guadalquivir flowing beneath its walls, he gazed upon it with 
the admiration of a lover, and lamented in his soul that he 
had to visit i% as an avenger. His troops, however, regarded 
it with wratnful eyes, thinking only of its rebellion, and of 
the massacre of then* countrymen in the alcazar. 

The principal people in the city had taken no part in this 
gallant but fruitless insurrection ; and now, when they beheld 
the army of Abdalasis encamped upon the banks of the 
Guadalquivir, would fain have gone forth to make explana- 
tions, and intercede for mercy. The populace, however, for- 
bade any one to leave the city, and barring the gates, prepared 
to defend themselves to the last. 

The place was attacked with resistless fury. The gates were 
soon burst open ; the Moslems rushed in, panting for revenge. 
They confined not their slaughter to the soldiery in the alca- 
zar, but roamed through every street, confounding the inno- 
cent with the guilty in one bloody massacre, and it was Avith 
the utmost difficulty that Abdalasis could at length succeed in 
staying their sanguinary career.* 

The son of Muza proved himself as mild in conquest as he 
had been intrepid in assault. The moderation and benignity 
of his conduct soothed the terrors of the vanquished, and his 

*Conde, r- l.c 1> 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 103 

tdse precautions restored tranquillity. Having made proper 
regulations for the protection of the inhabitants, he left a 
strong garrison in the place to prevent any future insurrec 
tion, and then departed on the further prosecution of his 
enterprise. 

Wherever he went his arms were victorious ; and his vic- 
tories were always characterised by the same magnanimity. 
At length he arrived on the confines of that beautiiul region 
comprising lofty and precipitous mountains and rich and deh- 
cious plains, afterwards known by the name of the kingdom 
of Murcia. All this part of the country was defended by the 
veteran Theodomir, who, by skilful management, had saved a 
renmant of his forces after the defeat on the banks of the 
Guadalete. 

Theodomir was a stanch warrior, but a wary and prudent 
man. He had experienced the folly of opposing the Arabs in open 
field, where their cavalry and armour gave them such superior- 
ity; on their approach, therefore, he assembled all his people 
capable of bearing arms, and took possession of the chffs and 
mountain passes. "Here," said he, "a simple goatherd, who 
can hurl down rocks and stones, is as good as a warrior armed 
in proof." In this way he checked and harassed the ]\Ioslem 
army in aU its movements ; showering down missiles upon it 
from overhanging precipices, and waylaying it in narrow and 
rugged defiles, where a few raw troops could make stand 
against a host. 

Theodomir was in a fair way to baffle his foes and oblige 
them to withdraw from his territories; unfortunately, how- 
ever, the wary veteran had two sons with him, young men of 
hot and heavy valour, who considered all this prudence of their 
father as savouring of cowardice, and who were anxious to try 
their prowess in the open field. " What glory," said they, "is 
to be gained by destroying an enemy in this Avay, from the co- 
vert of rocks and thickets?" 

' ' You talk Mke young men, " replied the veteran. ' ' Glory is 
a prize one may fight for abroad, but safety is the object when 
the enemy is at the door." 

One day, however, the young men succeeded in drawing 
down their father into the plain. Abdalasis immediately seized 
on the opportunity and threw himself between the Goths and 
their mountain fastnesses. Theodomir saw too late the danger 
into which he was betrayed. " What can our raw troops do," 
said he, " against those squadrons of horse that move hke cas- 



104 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

ties? Let us make a rapid retreat to Orihuela and defend our- 
selves from behind its walls." 

"Father," said the eldest son, "it is too late to retreat; 
remain here with the reserve whUe my brother and I advance. 
Fear nothing; am not I your son, and would I not die to de- 
fend you?" 

"In truth," replied the veteran, " I have my doubts whether 
you are my son. But if I remain here, and you should all be 
killed, where then would be my protection? Come," added 
he, turning to the second son. " I trust that thou art virtually 
my son; let us hasten to retreat before it is too late." 

"Father," replied the youngest, "I have not a doubt that I 
am honestly and thoroughly your son, and as such I honour 
you ; but I owe duty likewise to my mother, and when I salhed 
to the war she gave me her blessing as long as I should act 
with valour, but her curse should I prove craven and fly the 
field. Fear nothing, father; I will defend you while living, 
and even after you are dead. You shall never fail of an hon- 
ourable sepulture among your kindred." 

"A pestilence on ye both," cried Theodomir, " for a brace of 
misbegotten madmen ! What care I, think ye, where ye lay my 
body when I am dead? One day's existence in a hovel is worth 
an age of interment in a marble sepulchre. Come, my friends," 
said he, turning to his principal cavaliers, ' ' let us leave these 
hot-headed striplings and make oxnx retreat ; if we tarry any 
longer the enemy wUl be upon us." 

Upon this the cavaliers and proud liidalgoes drew up scorn- 
fully and tossed their heads: " What do you see in us," said 
they, "that you think we will show our backs to the enemy? 
Forward ! was ever the good old Gothic watchword, and with 
that we wUl live and die !" 

While time was lost in these disputes, the Moslem army kept 
advancing, until retreat was no longer practicable. The battle 
was tumultuous and bloody. Theodomir fought like a lion, 
but it was all in vain : he saw his two sons cut down, and the 
greater part of their rash companions, whUe his raw mountain 
troops fled in all directions. 

Seeing there was no longer any hope, he seized the bridle of 
a favourite page who Avas near him, and who was about spur- 
ring for the mountains. "Part not from me, " said he, "but 
do thou at least attend to my counsel, my son ; and, of a truth, 
I believe thou art my son ; for thou art the offspring of one of 
my handmaids who was kind unto me. " And indeed the youth 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 105 

marvellously resembled him. Turning then the reins of his 
own steed, and giving him the spur, he fled amain from the 
field, followed by the page ; nor did he stop untU he arrived 
withui the walls of Orihuela. 

Ordering the gates to be barred and bolted, he prepared to 
receive the enemy. There were but few men in the city capa- 
ble of bearmg arms, most of the youth having fallen in the field. 
He caused the women, therefore, to clothe themselves in male 
attii-e, to put on hats and helmets, to take long reeds in then .: 
hands instead of lances, and to cross their hair upon their chins 
in semblance of beards. With these troops he lined the walls 
and towers. 

It was about the hoiu' of twihght that Abdalasis approached 
with his army, but he paused when he saw the walls so numer- 
ously garrisoned. Then Theodomir took a flag of truce in his 
hand, and put a herald's tabard on the page, and they two 
saUied forth to capitulate, and were graciously received by 
Abdalasis. 

"I come," said Theodomir, "on the behalf of the commander 
of this city to treat for terms worthy o^ your magnanimity and 
of his dignity. You perceive that the city is capable of with- 
standing a long siege, but he is desirous of sparing the hves of 
his soldiers. Promise that the inhabitants shall be at liberty 
to depart unmolested with their property, and the city will be 
delivered up to you to-morrow morning without a blow ; other- 
wise we are prepared to fight imtil not a man be left." 

Abdalasis was well pleased to get so powei'ful a place upon 
such easy terms, but stipulated that the garrison should lay 
do-\vn their arms. To this Theodomir readily assented, with 
the exception, however, of the governor and liis retinue, which 
was granted out of considei-ation for his dignity. The articles 
of capitulation were then drawn out, and when Abdalasis had 
afiixed his name and seal, Theodomir took the pen and wrote 
his signature. ' ' Behold in me, " said he, ' ' the governor of the 
city!" 

Abdalasis was pleased with the hardihood of the commander 
of the place in thus venturing personally into his power, and 
entertained the veteran with still greater honour. When Theo- 
domir returned to the city, he made known the capitulation, 
and charged the inhabitants to pack up their effects during the 
night and be ready to sally forth in the morning. 

At the dawn of day the gates were thrown open, and Abdala- 
sis iooked to see a great force issuing forth, but, to his sm'priso, 



106 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

beheld merely Theodomir and his page in battered armour, 
followed by a multitude of old men, women, and children. 

Abdalasis waited until the whole had come forth, then t\im- 
ing to Theodomir, " Where," cried he, " are the soldiers whom 
I saw last evening Hning the walls and towers?" 

" Soldiers have I none," replied the veteran. " As to my gar- 
rison, behold it before you. With these women did I man my 
walls, and this my page is my herald, guard, and retinue." 

Upon this the Bishop Oppas and Coimt JuHan exclaimed 
ihat thecapitulation was a base fraud and ought not to be com- 
plied with; but Abdalasis relished the stratagem of the old 
soldier, and ordered that the stipulations of the treaty shotdd 
be faithfully perfornaed. Nay, so high an opinion did he con- 
ceive of the subtle wisdom of this commander, that he pennit- 
ted him to remain in authority over the surrounding country 
on his acknowledging allegiance and engaging to pay tribute 
to the cahpht; and all that part of Spain, comprising the beau- 
tiful provinces of Murcia and Valencia, was long after known 
by the Arabic name of its defender, and is still recorded in 
Arabian chronicles as " The land of Tadmir." * 

Having succeeded in subduing this rich and fruitful region, 
and having gained great renown for his generosity as well as 
valour, Abdalasis returned with the chief part of his armv to 
the city of Seville. 



CHAPTER XI. 



MUZA ARRIVES AT TOLEDO— INTERVIEW BETWEEN HIM AND 
I TARIC. 

When Muza ben Nosier had sent his son Abdalasis to subdue 
Seville, he departed for Toledo to call Taric to accoimt for his 
disobedience to his orders; for, amidst all his own successes, 
the prosperous career of that commander preyed upon his 
mind. What can content the jealous and ambitious heart? 
As Muza passed through the land, towns and cities submit- 
ted to him without resistance ; he was lost in wonder at the 
richness of the country and noble monuments of art with 
wliich it was adorned ; when he beheld the bridges, construct- 

* Conde, p. 1. Crouica del Moro Rasis. Cron. gen. Espaiia, por Alonzo el Sabio, 
D. 3. c. 1. 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OB' SPAIN. 107 

ed in ancient times by the Romans, they seemed to him the 
work, not of men, bub of genii. Yet all these admirable ob- 
jects only made him repine the more that he had not had the 
exclusive glory of invading and subduing the land; ana exas- 
perating him the more against Taric, for having apparently 
endeavoured to monopolize the conquest. 

Taric heard of his approach, and came forth to meet him at 
Talavera, accompanied by many of the most distinguished 
companions of his victories, and with a train of horses and 
mules laden with spoils, with which he trusted to propitiate 
the favour of his commander. Their meeting took place on 
the banks of the rapid river Tietar, which rises in the moun- 
tains of Placencia and throws itseK into the Tagus. Muza, in 
fonner days, while Taric had acted as his subordinate and 
indefatigable officer, had cherished and considered him as a sec- 
ond self ; but now that he had started up to be a rival, he could 
not conceal his jealousy. When the veteran came into his 
presence, he regarded him for a moment with a stem and in- 
dignant aspect. "Why hast thou disobeyed my orders?" said 
he. "I commanded thee to await my arrival with reinforce- 
ments, but thou hast rashly overrun the country, endangering 
the loss of our armies and the ruin of our cause." 

" I have acted," rephed Taric, "in such manner as I thought 
would best serve the cause of Islam, and in so doing I thought 
to fulfil the wishes of Muza. Whatever I have done has been 
as your servant ; behold your share, as commander-in-chief, of 
the spoils which I have coHected. " So saying, he produced an 
immense treasure in silver and gold and costly stuffs, and pre- 
cious stones, and spread it before Muza. 

The anger of the Arab commander was still more kindled at 
the sight of this booty, for it proved how splendid had been 
the victories of Taric ; but he restrained his wrath for the pres- 
ent, and they proceeded together in moody silence to Toledo. 
When he entered this royal city, however, and ascended to the 
ancient palace of the Glotlaic kings, and reflected that all this 
had been a scene of triumph to his rival, he could no longer 
repress his indignation. He demanded of Taric a strict ac- 
count of all the riches he had gathered in Spain, even of the 
presents he had reserved for the caliph, and, above all, he 
made him yield up his favom'ite trophy, the talismanic table 
of Solomon. When all this was done, he again upbraided him 
bitterly with his disobedience of ordere, and with the raslmess 
of his conduct. " What blind confidence in fortune hast thou 



108 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

shown," said he, "in overrunning such a country and assail' 
ing such powerful cities with tliy scanty force ! What mad- 
ness, to venture every thing upon a desperate chance, when 
thou knewest I was coming with a force to make the victory 
secure. All tlay success has been owing to mere luck, not to 
judgment nor generalship." 

He then bestowed high praises upon the other chieftains for 
their services in the cause of Islam, but they answered not a 
word, and their countenances were gloomy and discontented ; 
for they felt the injustice done to their favourite leader. As to 
Taric, though his eye burned like fire, he kept his passion 
within bounds. ' ' I have done the best I could to serve God 
and the caliph," said he, emphatically; " my conscience acquits 
me, and I trust my sovereign will do the same." 

"Perhaps he may," repHed Muza, bitterly; "but, in the 
meantime, I cannot confide his interests to a desperado who is 
heedless of orders and throws every thing at hazard. Such a 
general is unworthy to be intrusted with the fate of armies." 

So saying, he divested Taric of his command, and gave it to 
Magued the renegado. The gaunt Taric still maintained an air 
of stern composure. His only words were, "The caliph wiU do 
me justice!" Muza was so transported with passion at this 
laconic defiance that he ordered him to be tin-own into prison, 
and even threatened his life. 

Upon this, Magued el Rumi, though he had risen by the dis- 
grace of Taric, had the generosity to speak out warmly in his 
favour. " Consider," said he to Muza, " what may be the con- 
sequences of this severity. Taric has many friends in the 
army; his actions, too, have been signal and illustrious, and 
entitle him to the highest honours and rewards, instead of dis- 
grace and imprisonment." 

The anger of Muza, however, was not to be appeased ; and he 
trusted to justify his measui-es by despatching missives to the 
caliph, complaining of the insubordination of Taric, and his 
rash and headlong conduct. The result proved the wisdom of 
the caution given by Magued. In the course of a little while 
Muza received a humiliating letter from the cahph, ordering 
him to restore Taric to the command of the soldiers "whom he 
had so gloriously conducted;" and noi to render useless " one 
of the best swords in Islam !" * 

It is thus the envious man brings humiliation and reproach 

* Conde, Part l,c. 15 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 1()9 

upon himself, in endeavouring to degrade a meritorious rival. 
When the tidings came of the justice rendered by the caliph to 
the merits of the veteran, there was general joy throughout 
the army, and Muza read in the smiling countenances of every 
one around him a severe censure upon his conduct. He con- 
cealed, however, his deep humiliation, and affected to obey 
the orders of his sovereign with great alacritj^; he released 
Taric from prison, feasted him at liis own table, and then pub- 
licly replaced him at the head of his troops. The army re- 
ceived its favourite veteran with shouts of joy, and celebrated 
with rejoicings the reconcihation of the commanders ; but the 
shouts of the soldiery were abhorrent to the ears of Muza. 



CHAPTER XII. 



MUZA PROSECUTES THE SCHEME OF CONQUEST— SIEGE OF SARA- 
GOSSA. — COMPLETE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 

The dissensions, which for a time had distracted the con- 
quering army, being appeased, and the Arabian generals being 
apparently once more reconciled, Muza, as commander-in- 
chief, proceeded to complete the enterprise by subjugating 
the northern parts of Spain. The same expeditious mode of 
conquest that had been sagaciously adopted by Taric, was still 
pursued. The troops were lightly armed, and freed from 
every superfluous incumbrance. Each horseman, beside his 
arms, carried a small sack of provisions, a copper vessel in 
which to cook them, and a skin which served him for surcout 
and for bed. The infantry carried nothing but their arms. 
To each regiment or squadron was allowed a limited number of 
sumpter mules and attendants ; barely enough to cairy their 
necessary baggage and supphes: nothing was peniiitted that 
could needlessly diminish the niimber of fighting men, delay 
their rapid naovements, or consume their provisions. Strict 
orders were again issued, prohibiting, on pain of death, all 
plunder exceiating the camp of an enemy, or cities given up to 
pillage.* 

The armies now took their several lines of march. That 

* Conde, p. 1, c. 15. 



110 LEGENDS OF TlIK CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

under Taric departed towards the northeast; beating up the 
country towards the source of the Tagus ; traversing the chain 
of the Iberian or Arragonian mountains, and pouring down 
into the plains and valleys watered by the Ebro. It was Avon- 
derful to see, in so brief a space of time, such a vast and diffi- 
cult country penetrated and subdued, and the invading army, 
like an inundating flood, pouring its streams into the most 
remote recesses. 

While Taric was thus sweeping the country to the northeast, 
Muza departed in an opposite direction ; yet purposing to meet 
him, and join their forces in Ihe north. Bending his course 
westwardly, he made a circuit behind the mountains, and 
then, advancing into the open country, displayed his banners 
before Salamanca, which surrendered without resistance. 
From hence he continued on towards Astorga, receiving the 
terrified submission of the land ; then turning up the valley of 
tne Douro, ho ascended the course of that famous river 
towards the east; crossed the Sierra de Moncayo, and, arriving 
on the banks of the Ebro, marched down along its stream, 
until he approached the strong city of Saragossa, the citadel of 
aU that part of Spain. In this place had taken refuge many of 
the most valiant of the Gothic warriors; the remnants of 
armies, and fugitives from conquered cities. It was one of the 
last rallying points of the land. When Muza arrived, Taric 
had already been for some time before the place, laying close 
siege ; the inhabitants were pressed by famine, and had suffered 
great losses in repeated combats, but there was a spirit and 
obstinacy in their resistance surpassing any thing that had 
yet been witnessed by the invaders. 

Muza now took command of the siege, and ordered a general 
assault upon the walls. The Moslems planted their scaling 
ladders, and mounted Avith their accustomed intrepidity, but 
were vigorously resisted; nor could all their efforts obtain 
them a footing upon the battlements. While they were thus 
assailing the walls. Count Julian ordered a heap of combusti- 
bles to be placed against one of the gates, and set on fire. The 
inhabitants attempted in vain from the barbican to extinguish 
the flames. They burnt so fiercely, that in a httle while the 
gate feU from its liinges. Count Julian galloped into the city, 
mounted upon a powerful charger, himself and his steed all 
covered with maU. He was followed by three hundred of his 
partisans, and supported by Magued the renegado, with a 
troon of horse. 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. m 

The inhabitants disputed every street and public square; 
they made barriers of dead bodies, fighting beliind tliese ram- 
parts of their slaughtered countrymen. Every window and 
roof was filled with combatants ; the very women and cliildren 
joined in the desperate fight, throwing down stones and mis- 
siles of all kinds, and scalding water upon the enemy. 

The battle raged imtil the hour of vespers, when the prin 
cipal inhabitants held a parley, and capitulated for a surrender. 
Muza had been incensed at their obstinate resistance, which 
had cost the lives oi: so many of his soldiers; he knew, also, 
that in the city were collected the riches of many of the towns 
of eastern Spain. He demanded, therefore, beside the usual 
terms, a heavy sum to be paid down by the citizens, called the 
contribution of blood; as by this they redeemed themselves 
from the edge of the sword. The people were obhged to com- 
ply. They collected all the jewels of their richest families, 
and all the ornaments of their temples, and laid them at the 
feet of Muza ; and placed in his power many of their noblest 
youths as hostages. A strong garrison was then appointed, 
and thus the fierce city of Saragossa was subdued to the yoke 
of the conqueror. 

The Arab generals pursued their conquests even to the foot 
of the Pyrenees ; Taric then descended along the course of the 
Ebro, and continued along the Mediterranean coast ; subduing 
the famous city of Valencia, with its rich and beautiful 
domains, and carrying the success of his arms even to Denia. 

Muza undertook with his host a wider range of conquest. 
He overcame the cities of Barcelona, Gerona, and others that 
lay on the skirts of the eastern mountains ; then crossing into 
the land of the Franlcs, he captured the city of Narbonne; in a 
temple of which he found seven equestrian images of silver, 
which he brought off as trophies of Ms victory.* Returmng 
into Spain, he scoured its northern regions along Gallicia and 
the Asturias; passed triumphantly through Lusitania, and 
arrived once more in Andalusia, covered with laurels and 
enriched ^vith immense spoils. 

Thus was completed the subjugation of unhappy Spain. AU 
its cities and fortresses, and strong-holds, were in the hands of 
the Saracens, excepting some of the wild mountain tracts that 
bordered the Atlantic, and extended towards the north. Here, 
then, the story of the conquest might conclude, but that the 

*Coude, p. 1, c. IG. 



112 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN 

indefatigable chronicler, Fray Antonio Agapida, goes on to 
record the fate of those persons who were most renowned in 
the enterprise. We shall follow his steps, and avail ourselves 
of Ms inf oi-mation, laboriously collected from various sources ; 
and, truly, the story of each of the actors in this great his- 
torical drama, bears with it its striking moral, and is full of 
admonition and instruction 



CHAPTER XIII. 



FEUD BETWEEN THE ARAB GENERALS— THEY ARE SUMMONED TO 
APPEAR BEFORE THE CALIPH AT DAMASCUS — RECEPTION OF 
TARIC. 

The heart of Muza ben Nosier was now lifted up, for he con- 
sidered his glory complete. He held a sway that might have 
gratified the pmbition of the proudest sovereign, for aU west- 
em Africa and the newly acquired peninsula of Spain were 
obedient to his rule; and he was renowned throughout all the 
lands of Islam as the great conqueror of the west. But sudden 
humOiation awaited him in the very moment of his highest 
triumph. 

Notwithstanding the outward reconciliation of Muza and 
Taric, a deep and implacable hostility continued to exist be- 
tween them ; and each had busy partisans who distracted the 
armies by their feuds. Letters were incessantly despatched to 
Damascus by either party, exalting the merits of their own 
leader and decrying his rival. Taric was represented as rash, 
arbitrary, and prodigal, and as injuring the disciphne of the 
army, by sometimes treating it with extreme rigour, and at 
other times giving way to licentiousness and profusion. Muza 
was lauded as prudent, sagacious, dignified, and systematic in 
his deahngs. The friends of Taric, on the other hand, repre- 
sented him as brave, generous, and high-minded; scrupulous 
in reserving to his sovereign his rightful share of the spoils, 
but distributing the rest bounteously among his soldiers, and 
thus increasing their alacrity in the service. "Muza, on the 
contrary," said they, "is grasping and insatiable; he levies 
intolerable contributions and collects immense treasure, buti 
sweeps it all into his own coffei-s." 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 113 

The caliph was at length wearied out by these complaints, 
and feared that the safety of the cause might be endangered 
by the dissensions of the rival generals. He sent letters, there- 
fore, ordering them to leave suitable persons in charge of their 
several commands, and appear, forthwith, before him at Da- 
mascus. 

Such was the greeting from his sovereign that awaited Muza 
on his return from the conquest of northern Spain. It was 
a grievous blow to a man of his pride and ambition ; but he 
prepared instantly to obey. He returned to Cordova, collect- 
ing by the way all the treasures he had deposited in various 
places. At that city he called a meeting of his principal 
oificers, and of the leaders of the faction of apostate Christians, 
and made them all do homage to his son Abdalasis, as emir or 
governor of Spain. He gave this favourite son much sage 
advice for the regulation of his conduct, and left with him his 
nephew, Ayub, a man greatly honoured by the Moslems for his 
wisdom and discretion ; exhorting Abdalasis to consult him on 
all occasions and consider him as his bosom counsellor. He 
made a parting address to his adherents, full of cheerful con- 
fidence; assuring them that he would soon return, loaded with 
new favours and honours by his sovereign, and enabled to re- 
ward them all for their faithful services. 

When Muza salhed forth from Cordova, to repair to Damas- 
cus, his cavalgada appeared like the sumptuous pageant of 
some oriental potentate; for he had numerous guards and 
attendants splendidly armed and arrayed, together with four 
hundred hostages, who were youthful cavaliers of the noblest 
families of the Goths, and a great nmnber of captives of both 
sexes, chosen for their beauty, and intended as presents for the 
caUph. Then there was a vast train of beasts of burden, laden 
with the plunder of Spain ; for he took with him all the wealth 
he had collected in his conquests ; and all the share that had 
been set apart for his sovereign. With tliis display of trophies 
and spoils, showing the magnificence of the land he had con- 
quered, he looked with confidence to silence the calumnies of 
his foes. 

As he traversed the valley of the Guadalquivir he often 
turned and looked back wistfully upon Cordova; and, at the 
distance of a league, when about to lose sight of it, he checked 
his steed upon the summit of a hill, and gazed for a long time 
upon its palaces and towers. "O Coi'dova!" exclaimed he, 
" gi'eat and glorious art thou among cities, and abundant in all 



114 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN 

delights. With grief and sorrow do I part from thee, for sure 
I am it would give me length of days to abide within thy 
pleasant walls!" When he had uttered these words, say the 
Arabian chronicles, he resumed his wayfaring; but his eyes 
were bent upon the ground, and frequent sighs bespoke the 
heaviness of his heart. 

Embarking at Cadiz he passed over to Africa with all his 
people and effects, to regidate his government in that countiy. 
He divided the conxmand between his sons, Abdelola and Me- 
ruan, leaving the former in Tangier, and the latter in Caii-van. 
Thus having secured, as he thought, the power and prosperity 
of his family, by placing ail his sons as his lieutenants in the 
country he had conquered, he departed for Syria, bearing with 
hun the sumptuous spoils of the west. 

While "Muza was thus disposmg of his commands, and mov- 
ing cumbrously under the weight of wealth, the veteran Taric 
was more speedy and alert in obeying the suixunons of tb.'^) 
caliph. Ho knew the importance, where complaints were tO 
be heard, of being first in presence of the judge; beside, he wa-i) 
ever ready to march at a moment's warning, and had nothiiat,,' 
to impede him in liis movements. The spoils he had made t>t 
his conquests had either been shared among his soldiers, t'J 
yielded up to Muza, or squandered away with open-hande:^ 
profusion. He appeared in Syria with a small train of wai^ 
worn followers, and had no other trophies to show than h:*i.' 
battered armour, and a body seamed with scars. He was re- 
ceived, however, with rapture by the multitude, who crowded 
to behold one of those conquerors of the west, whose wonderful 
achievements were the theme of every tongue. They wera 
charmed with his gaunt and martial air, his hard sunburnt 
features, and his scathed eye. ''All hail," cried they, " to the 
sword of Islam, the terror of the unbelievers ! Behold the true 
model of a warrior, who despises gain and seeks for nought but 
glory !" 

Taric was graciously received by the caliph, who asked 
tidings of his victories. He gave a soldier-like account of his 
actions, frank and fidl, without any feigned modesty, yet with- 
out vain-glory. "Commander of the faithful," said he, "I 
bring thee no silver, nor gold, nor precious stones, nor captives, 
for what spoils I did not share with my soldiers I gave up to 
Muza as my commander. How I have conducted myself the 
honourable warriors of thy host will tell thee; nay, let our 



LEGEND OF 271 E SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. \IQ 

enemies, the Christians, be asked if I have ever shown myself 
cowardly or cruel or rapacious. " 

" What kind of people are these Christians?" demanded the 
caliph. 

"The Spaniards," rephed Taric, "are lions in their castles, 
efigles in their saddles, but mere women when on foot. When 
vanquished they escape like goats to the mountains, for they 
need not see the ground they tread on." 

" And teU me of the Moors of Barbary." 

"They are like Aiabs in the fierceness and dexterity of their 
attacks, and in theii" knowledge of the stratagems of war ; they 
resemble them, too, in feature, in fortitude, and hospitahty; 
but they are the most perfidious people upon earth, and never 
i-egard promise or plighted faith. " 

" And the people of Afranc; what say est thou of them?" 

"They are infinite in number, rapid in the onset, fierce in 
battle, but confused and headlong in flight." 

"And how fared it with thee among these people? Did they 
sometimes vanquish thee ?" 

"Never, by Allah!" cried Taric, with honest warmth; 
"never did a banner of mine fly the field. Though the enemy 
were two to one, my Moslems never shunned the combat !" 

The caliph was well pleased with the martial Wuntncss of 
the veteran, and showed him great honour; and Avherever 
Taric appeared he was the idol of the populace. 



CHAPTER XIV. 



MUZA ARRIVES AT DAMASCUS -HIS INTERVIEW WITH THE CA- 
LIPH—THE TABLE OF SOLOMON — A RIGOROUS SENTENCE. 

Shortly after the arrival of Taric el Tuerto at Damascus, the 
caliph fell dangerously ill, insomuch that his life was despaired 
of. During his iUness, tidings were brought that Muza ben 
Nosier had entered Syria with a vast cavalcade, bearmg aU 
the riches and trophies gained in the -western conquests. Now 
Suleiman ben Abdelmelec, brother to the caliph, was successor 
to the throne, and he saw that his brother had not long to 
hve, and wished to grace the commencement of his reign by 
this triumphant display of the spoils of Christendom ; he sent 
messengers, theref oi-e, to Muza, saying, ' ' The caliph is ill and 



116 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

cannot receive thee at present ; I pray thee tarry on the mad 
until his recovery. " Muza, however, paid no attention to the 
messages of Suleiman, but rather hastened his march to ai-rive 
before the death of the caliph. And Suleiman treasured up 
his conduct in his heart. 

Muza entered the city in a kind of triumph, with a long 
train of horses and mules and camels laden with treasure, 
and with the four hundred sons of Gothic nobles as hostages, 
each decorated Avith a diadem and a girdle of gold ; and with 
one hundred Christian damsels, whose beauty dazzled all be- 
holders. As he passed thi'ough the streets he ordered purses 
of gold to be thrown among the populace, who rent the air 
with acclamations. "Behold," cried they, "the veritable 
conqueror of the unbelievers! Behold the true model of a 
conqueror, who brings home wealth to his country!" And 
they heaped benedictions on the head of Muza. 

The Cahph Waled Almanzor rose from his couch of illness to 
receive the emir; who, when he repaired to the palace, filled 
one of its great courts with treasures of all kinds ; the halls, 
too, were thronged with the youthful hostages, magnificently 
attired, and with Christian damsels, lovely as the houries of 
paradise. When the caliph demanded an account of the con- 
quest of Spain, he gave it with great eloquence; but, in 
describing the various victories, he made no mention of the 
name of Taric, but spoke as if everything had been effected by 
himself. He then presented the spoils of the Christians as if 
they had been all taken by his own hands; and when he deli- 
vered to the caliph the miraculous table of Solomon, he dwelt 
with animation on the virtues of that inestimable talisman. 

Upon this, Taric, who was present, could no longer hold his 
peace. " Commander of the faithful, " said he, "examine this 
precious table, if any part be Avanting." The caliph examined 
the table, which was composed of a single emerald, and he 
found that one foot was supplied with a foot of gold. Tlie 
caliph turned to Muza and said, ' ' Where is the other foot of 
the table?" Muza answered, "I know not; one foot was 
wanting when it came into my hands. " Upon this, Taric drew 
from beneath liis robe a foot of emerald of Hke workmanship 
to the others, and fitting exactly to the table. "Behold, O com- 
mander of the faithful!" cried he, "a proof of the real finder 
of the table; and so is it with the greater part of the spoils 
exhibited by Muza as trophies of his achievements. It was I 
who gained them, and who captured the cities in wliich they 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 117 

were found. If you want proof, demand of these Christian 
cavahers here present, most of whom I captured; demand of 
those Moslem warriors who aided me in my battles." 

Muza was confounded for a moment, but attempted to vindi- 
cate himself. "I spake," said he, "as the chief of your 
armies, under whose orders and banners this conquest was 
achieved. The actions of the soldier are the actions of the 
commander. In a great victory it is not supposed that the 
chief of the army takes all the captives, or kills all the slain, 
or gathers all the booty, though all are enumerated in the 
records of his triumph." The caUph, however, was wroth, and 
heeded not his words. "You have vaunted your own de- 
serts," said he, " and have forgotten the deserts of others; nay, 
you have sought to debase another who has loyally served his 
sovereign ; the reward of your envy and covetousness be upon 
your own head !" So saying, he bestowed a great part of the 
spoUs upon Taric and the other chiefs, but gave notliing to 
Muza ; and the veteran retired amidst the sneers and murmurs 
of those present. 

In a few days the Caliph Waled died, and was succeeded by 
his brother Suleiman. The new sovereign cherished deep re- 
sentment against Muza for having presented himself at court 
contrary to his command, and he listened readily to the calum- 
nies of his enemies ; for Muza had been too illustrious in his 
deeds not to have many enemies. All now took courage when 
they found he was out of favour, and they heaped slanders on 
his head ; charging Mm with embezzling much of the share of 
the booty belonging to the sovereign. The new caliph lent a 
wiUing ear to the accusation, and commanded him to render 
up all that he had pillaged from Spain. The loss of his riches 
might have been borne with fortitude by Muza, but the stigma 
upon his fame filled his heart with bitterness. " I have been a 
faithful servant to the throne from my youth upwards," said 
he, ' ' and now I am degraded in my old age. I care not for 
wealth, I care not for life, but let me not be deprived of that 
honoui" which God has bestowed upon me !" 

The caiiph was still more exasperated at his repming, and 
stripped him of his commands; confiscated his effects; fined 
him two hundred thousand pesants of gold, and ordered that 
he should be scourged and exposed to the noontide sun, and 
afterwards thrown into prison.* The populace also reviled 

* Conde, p. 1, o, IT. 



118 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

and scoffed at him in liis misery, and as they beheld him led 
forth to the public gaze, and fainting in the sun, they pointed 
at him with derision and exclaimed— " Behold the envious 
man and the impostor ; this is he who pretended to have con- 
quered the land of the unbehevers !" 



CHAPTER XV. 

CONDUCT OF ABDALASIS AS EMIR OP SPAIN. 

While these events were happening in Syria, the youthful 
Abdalasis, the son of Muza, remained as emir or governor 
of Spain. He was of a generous and benignant disposition, 
but he was open and confiding, and easily led away by the 
opinions of those he loved. Fortunately his father had left 
with him, as a bosom counsellor, the discreet Ayub, the 
nephew of Muza ; aided by his advice, he for some time ad- 
ministered the public affairs prudently and prosperously. 

Not long after the departure of his father, he received a let- 
ter from him, written while on liis journey to Syria ; it was to 
the following purport : 

' ' Beloved son ; honour of thy lineage ; Allah guard thee 
from all harm and peril ! Listen to the words of thy father. 
Avoid aU treachery though it should promise great advantage, 
and trust not in him wlio counsels it, even though he should 
be a brother. The company of traitors put far from thee ; for 
how canst thou be certain that he who has proved false to 
others will prove true to thee? Beware, O my son, of the 
seductions of love. It is an idle ])assion which enfeebles the 
heart and blinds the judgment ; it render's the mighty weak, 
and makes slaves of princes. If thou shouldst discover any 
foible of a vicious kind springing up in thy nature, pluck it 
forth, whatever pang it cost thee. Every error, while new, 
may easily be weeded out, but if suffered to take root, it 
flourishes and bears seed, and produces fruit an hundred-fold. 
Follow these counsels, O son of my affections, and thou shalt 
live secure." 

Abdalasis meditated upon this letter, for some part of it 
seemed to contain a mystery which he could not comprehend. 
He called to him his cousin and counsellor, the discreet Avub. 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 119 

"What means my father," said he, " m cautioning me against 
treachery and treason? Does he think my nature so base that 
it could descend to such means?" 

Kjvib read the letter attentively, "Thy father," said he, 
' ' would put thee on thy guard against the traitors Julian and 
Oppas, and those of their party who surround thee. "What 
love canst thou expect from men who have been unnatural to 
their kindred, and what loyalty from wretches who have be- 
trayed their country ?" 

Abdalasis was satisfied with the interpretation, and he acted 
accordingly. He had long loathed all communion with these 
men, for there is nothing which the open ingenuous nature so 
much abhors as duplicity and treason. Policy, too, no longer 
required their agency ; they had rendered their infamous ser- 
vice, and had no longer a country to betray ; but they might 
turn and betray their employers. Abdalasis, therefore, re- 
moved them to a distance from his court, and placed them in 
situations where they could do no harm, and he warned his 
commanders from being in any wise influenced by their 
counsels, or aided by their arms. 

He now confided entirely in his Arabian troops, and in the 
Moorish squadrons from Africa, and with their aid he com- 
pleted the conquest of Lusitania to the ultimate parts of the 
Algarbe, or west, even to the shores of the great Ocean sea.* 
From hence he sent his generals to overrun all those vast-sand 
rugged sierras, which rise like rampai'ts along the ocean bor- 
ders of the peninsula ; and they carried the standard of Islam 
in triumph even to the mountains of Biscay, collecting all 
manner of precious spoil. 

" It is not enoTigh, O Abdalasis," said Ayub, " that we con- 
quer and rule this coimti'y with the sword; if we wish our 
dominion to be secure, we must cultivate the arts of peace, 
and study to secure the confidence and promote the welfare 
of the people we have conquered. " Abdalasis relished counsel 
wliich accorded so well with his own beneficent nature. He 
endeavoured, therefore, to allay the ferment and confusion of 
the conquest ; forbade, under riecorous punishment, all wanton 
spoil or oppression, and protected the native inhabitants in 
the enjoyment and cultivation of their lands, and the pursuit 



♦Algarbe, or Algarbia, in Arabic signifies tlie west, as Axarkia is the east, 
Algufia the north, and Aquibla the south. This will serve to explain some of the 
geographical names on the peninsula, which are of Arabian origin. 



120 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

of ail useful occupations. By the advice of Ayub, also, ho 
encouraged great numbers of industrious Moors and Arabs 
to emigrate from Africa, and gave them houses and lands; 
thus introducing a peaceful Mahometan population into the 
conquered provinces. 

The good effect of the counsels of Ayub were soon apparent. 
Instead of a sudden but transient influx of wealth, made by 
the ruin of the land, which loft the country desolate, a regular 
and permanent revenue sprang up, produced by reviving 
prosperity, and gathered without violence. Abdalasis ordered 
it to be faithfully collected, and deposited in coffers by public 
officers appointed in each province for the purpose ; and the 
whole was sent by ten deputies to Damuscus to be laid at the 
feet of the caliph; not as the spoils of a- vanquished country, 
but as the peaceful trophies of a wisely administered govern- 
ment. 

The common herd of warlike adventurers, the mere men of 
the sword, who had thronged to Spain for the purpose of 
ravage and rapine, were disappointed at being thus checked in 
their career, and at seeing the reign of terror and violence 
drawing to a close. What manner of leader is this, said they, 
who forbids us to make spoil of the enemies of Islam, and to 
enjoy the land wo have wrested from the unbelievers? The 
partisans of Julian, also, whispered their calumnies. "Be- 
hold," said they, " with what kindness he treats the enemies 
of your faith ; all the Christians who have borne arms against 
you, and withstood your entrance into the land, are favoured 
and protected; but it is enough for a Christian to have be- 
friended tlie cause of the Moslems to be singled out by 
Abdalasis for persecution, and to be driven with scorn from 
his presence. " 

Tliese insinuations fermented the discontent of the turbulent 
and rapacious among the Moslems, but all the friends of peace 
and order and good government applauded the moderation of 
the youthful emir. 



CHAPTER XVI. 
LOVES OP ABDALASIS AND EXtLONA. 

Abdalasis had fixed his seat of government at Seville, as 
permitting easy and frequent communications with the coast 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 121 

of Africa. His palace was of noble architecture, vnth delight- 
ful gardens extending to the banks of the Guadalquivir. In a 
part of this palace resided many of the most beautiful Chiistian 
females, who were detained as captives, or rather hostages, tc 
insure the tranquillity of the country. Those who wore of 
noble rank were entertained in luxury and magnificence; 
slaves were appointed to attend upon them, and they were 
arrayed in the richest apparel and decorated with the most 
precious jewels. Those of tender age were taught all graceful 
accomphshments ; and even where tasks wore imposed, they 
were of the most elegant and agreeable kind. They em- 
broidered, they sang, they danced, and passed their times h:. 
pleasmg revelry. Many were lulled by this easy and volup 
tuous existence; the scenes of horror through which they bad 
passed were gradually effaced from their minds, and a desire 
was often awakened of rendering themselves pleasing in the 
eyes of then- conquerors. 

After his return from his campaign in Lusitania, and during 
the intei'vals of pubhc duty, Abdalasis solaced himself in the 
repose of this palace, and in the society of these Christian cap- 
tives. He remarked one among them who ever sat apart, and 
neither joined in the labours nor sports of her companions. 
She was lofty in her demeanour, and the others always paid 
her reverence ; yet sorrow- had given a softness to her charms, 
and rendered her beauty touching to the heart. Abdalasis 
found her one day in the garden with her companions; they 
had adorned their heads with flowers, and were singing the 
songs of their coimtry, but she sat by herself and wept. The 
youtliful emir was moved by her tears, and accosted her in 
gentle accents. "O fairest of women!" said he, "why dost 
thou weep, and why is thy heart troubled?" "Alas!" replied 
she, "have I not cause to weep, seeing how sad is my condi- 
tion, and how great the height from which I have fallen ? In 
me you behold the wretched Exilona, but lately the wife of 
Eoderick, and the queen of Spain, now a captive and a slave 1" 
and, having said these words, cast her eyes ui)on the earth, and 
her tears began to flow afresh. 

The generous feelings of Abdalasis were aroused at the sigh\ 
of beauty and royalty in tears. He gave orders that Exilont 
should be entertained in a style befitting her former rank; he 
appointed a train of female attendants to wait upon her, and a 
guard of honour to protect her from all intrusion. All the time 
that he could spare from public concerns was passed in her 



122 LEGENDS OF TEE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

society; and he even neglected his divan, and suffered his 
counsellors to attend in vain, while -he lingered in the apart- 
ments and gardens of the palace, listening to the voice of 
Exilona. 

The discreet Ayub saw the danger into which he was falling. 
"O Abdalasis," said he, "remember the words of thy father. 
* Beware, my son,' said he, 'of the seductions of love. It ren- 
ders the mighty weak, and makes slaves of princes ! ' " A blush 
kindled on the cheek of Abdalasis, and he was silent for a mo- 
ment. "Why," said he, at length, "do you seek to charge me 
with such weakness ? It is one thing to be infatuated by the 
charms of a woman, and another to be touched by her misfor- 
tunes. It is the duty of my station to console a princess who 
has been reduced to the lowest humiliation by the triumphs of 
our arms. In doing so I do but Usten to the dictates of true 
magnanimity." 

Ayub was silent, but his brow was clouded, and for once 
Abdalasis parted in discontent from his counsellor. In propor- 
tion as he was dissatisfied with others or with himself, he sought 
the society of Exilona, for there was a charm in her conversa- 
tion that banished every care. He daily became more and 
more enamoured, and Exilona gradually ceased to weep, and 
began to Msten with secret pleasure to the words of her Arab 
lover. When, however, he sought to urge his passion, she 
recollected the light estimation in which her sex was held by the 
followers of Mahomet, and assumed a countenance grave and 
severe. 

"Fortune," said she, "has cast me at thy feet; behold I am 
thy captive and thy spoil. But though my person is in thy 
power, my soul is unsubdued ; and know that, should I lack 
force to defend my honour, I have resolution to wash out all 
stain upon it with my blood. I trust, however, in thy courtesy 
as a cavalier to respect me in my reverses, remembering what 
I have been, and that though the crown has been wrested from 
my brow, the royal blood still warms within my veins." * 

The lofty spii'it of Exilona, and her proud repulse, served biit 
to increase the passion of Abdalasis. He besought her to unite 
her destiny with his, and share his state and power, promising 
that she should have no i-ival nor copartner in his heart. What- 
ever scruples the captive queen might originally have felt to a 
union with one of the conquerors of her lord, and an enemy 

* Faxardo. corona, Gothica, T. 1, p. 499. Joan. Mar. de reb. Hisp. L. 6, c. 27. 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 123 

of her adopted faith, they were easily vanquished, and she be- 
came the bride of Abdalasis. He would fain have persuaded her 
to return to the faith of her fathers ; but though of Moorish 
origin, and brought up in the doctrines of Islam, she was too 
thorough a convert to Christianity to consent, and looked back 
with disgust upon a religion that admitted a plurality of wives. 

When the sage Ayub heard of the resohition of Abdalasis to 
espouse Exilona he was in despair. "Alas, my cousia!" said 
he, " what infatuation possesses thee ? Hast thou then entirely 
forgotten the letter of thy father ? ' Beware, my son, ' said he, 
' of love ; it is an idle passion, which enfeebles the heart and 
blinds the judgment.' " But Abdalasis interrupted him with 
impatience. ' ' My father, " said he, ' ' spake but of the blandish- 
ments of wanton love; against these I am secured by my 
virtuous passion for Exilona." 

Ayub would fata have impressed upon him the dangers he 
ran of awakening suspicion in the caliph, and discontent among 
the Moslems, by wedding the queen of the conquered Eoderick. 
and one who was an enemy to the rehgion of Mahomet ; but 
the youthful lover only Hstened to his Dassion. Their nuptials 
were celebrated at Seville with great pomp and rejoicings, and 
he gave his bride the name of Omahsam ; that is to say, she of 
the precious jewels : * but she continued to be known among 
the Christians by the name of Exilona. 



CHAPTER XVII, 

FATE OF ABDALASIS AND EXILONA — DEATH OF JITJZA 

Possession, instead of cooHng the passion of Abdalasis, only 
added to its force ; he became blindly enamoured of his beau- 
tiful bride, and consulted her will in all things ; nay, having 
lost all relish for the advice of the discreet Ayub, he was even 
guided by the counsels of his wife in the affairs of government. 
Exilona, unfortunately, had once been a queen, and she could 
not remember her regal glories without regret. She saw that 
Abdalasis had great power in the land ; gi-eater even than had 
been possessed by the Gothic kings ; but she considered it as 
wanting in true splendour until his brows should be encircled 

t Conde, p. 1, c. 17. 



124 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

with the outward badge of royalty. One day, when they were 
alone in the palace of Seville, and the heart of Abdalasis warj 
given up to tenderness, she addressed him in fond yet timid 
accents. "Will not my lord be offended," said she, " if I make 
an unwelcome request ?" Abdalasis regarded her with a smile. 
" What canst thou ask of me, Exilona," said he, " that it would 
not be a happiness for me to grant ?" Then Exilona produced 
a crown of gold, sparkhng with jewels, which had belonged to 
the king, Don Eoderick, and said, "Behold, thou art king in 
authority, be so in thy outward state. There is majesty and 
glory in a crown; it gives a sanctity to power." Then putting 
the crown upon his head, she held a mirror before him that he 
might behold the majesty of his appearance. Abdalasis chid 
her fondly, and put the crown away from him, but Exilon; 
persisted in her prayer. " Never," said she, "has thei*e been a 
king in Spain that did not wear a crown. " So Abdalasis suf- 
fered himself to be beguiled by the blandishments of his wife, 
and to be invested with the crown and sceptre and other signs 
of royalty,* 

It is affirmed by ancient and discreet chroniclers, that Abda- 
lasis only assumed this royal state in the privacy of his palace, 
and to gratify the eye of his youthful bride ; but where was a 
secret ever confined within the walls of a palace? The assump- 
tion of the insignia of the ancient Gothic kings was soon ru- 
moured about, and cavised the naost violent suspicions. The 
Moslems had already felt jealous of the ascendancy of this 
beautiful woman, and it was now confidently asserted that 
Abdalasis, won by her persuasions, had secretly turned Chris- 
tian. 

The enemies of Abdalasis, those whose rapacious spirits had 
been kept in check by the beneficence of his rule, seized upon 
this occasion to ruin him. They sent letters to Damascus ac- 
cusing him of apostasy, and of an intention to seize upon the 
throne in right of his wife, Exilona, as widow of the late King 
Eoderick. It was added, that the Christians were prepared to 
flock to his standard as the only means of regaining ascen- 
dancy in their country. 

These accusations arrived at Damascus just after the acces- 
sion of the sanguinary Suleiman to the throne, and in the 
height of his persecution of the unfortunate Muza. The caliph 



♦ Cron. gen. de Alonzo el Sabio, p. 3. Joan. Mar. de reb. Hisp. lib. 6, c. 37. Con^e, 
b. 1. c. 19. 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 125 

waited for no proofs in confirmation; he immediately sent 
private orders that Abdalasis ti'aould be put to death, and that 
the same fate should be dealt to his two brothei-s who governed 
in Africa, as a sure means of '^rusi^ing the conspii-acy of this 
ambitious family. 

The mandate for the death of Abdalasis was sent to AbhUbar 
ben Obeidah and Zeyd ben Nabegat, both of whom had been 
cherished friends of Muza, and h"d Uved in intimate favour 
and companionship with his son. When they read the fatal 
parchment, the scroll fell from their trembhng hands. " Can 
such hostiUty exist against the family of Muza?" exclaimed 
they. ' ' Is this the reward for such great and glorious ser- 
vices?" The cavaliers remained for some time plunged in 
horror and consternation. The order, however, was absolute, 
and left them no discretion. "Allah is great," said they, " and 
commands us to obey our sovereign." So they prepared to 
execute the bloody mandate with the blind fidehty of Moslems. 

It was necessary to proceed with caution. The open and 
magnanmious character of Abdala,sis had won the hearts of a 
great part of the soldiery, and Ms magnificenc-e pleased the 
cavahei-s who formed his guard ; it was feared, therefore, that 
a sanguinary opposition would be made to any attempt upon 
Ms person. The rabble, however, had been imbittered against 
him from his having restrained their depredations, and because 
they thought Mm an apostate in his heart, secretly bent upon 
betraying them to the Christians. While, therefore, the two 
officers made vigilant dispositions to check any movement on 
the part of the soldiery, they let loose the bhnd fury of the 
populace by publishing the fatal mandate. In a moment the 
city was in a ferment, and there was a ferocious emulation who 
shoiild be first to execute the orders of the caliph. 

Abdalasis was at tMs time at a palace in the country not fai 
from SeviQe, commanding a delightlid view of the fertile plain 
of the Guadalquivir. Hither he was accustomed to retire 
from the tumult of the court, and to pass Ms time among 
groves and fountains and the sweet repose of gardens, in the 
society of Exilona. It was the dawn of day, the hour of early 
prayer, when the furious populace arrived at this retreat. 
Abdalasis was offering up his orisons in a small mosque which 
he had erected for the use of the neighbouring peasantry. 
Exilona was in a chapel in the interior of the palace, where her 
confessor, a holy friar, was performing mass. They wore both 
surprised at their devotions, and dragged forth by the hands 



126 LJi^GENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

of the rabble. A few guards, who attended at the p^aee, 
would have made defence, but they were overawed by tha 
sight f the written mandate of the caliph. 

The captives were borne in triumph to Seville. All the oe- 
neficent virtues of Abdalasis were forgotten; nor had the 
charms of Exdona any effect in softening the hearts of the 
populace. The brutal eagerness to shed blood, which seems 
inherent in human nature, was awakened, and woe to the vic- 
tims when that eagerness is quickened by rehgious hate. The 
illusti'ious couple, adorned with all the grace of youth and 
beauty, were hurried to a scaffold in the great square of Se- 
ville, and there beheaded amidst the shouts and execrations of 
an infatuated multitude. Their bodies were left exposed upon 
the ground, and would have been devoured by dogs, had they 
not been gathered at niglit by some friendly hand, and poorly 
interred in one of the courts of their late dwelhng. 

Thus terminated the lovec and lives of Abdalasis and Exilona, 
in the year of the incarnation seven hundred and foirrteen. 
Their names were held sacred as martyrs to the Christian 
faith ; but many read in +heir untimely fate a lesson against 
ambition and vain-glory; having sacrificed real power and 
substantial rule to the glittering bauble of a crown. 

The head of Abdalasis was embalmed and enclosed in a cas- 
ket, and sent to Syria to the cruel Suleiman. The messenger 
who bore it overtook the caliph as he was performing a pil- 
grimage to Mecca. Muza was among the courtiers in his train, 
having been released from prison. On opening the casket and 
regarding its contents, the eyes of the tyrant sparkled with 
malignant satisfaction. Calling the unhappy father to his 
side: "Muza," said he, "dost thou know this head?" The 
veteran recognized the features of his beloved son, and turned 
his face away with anguish. "Yes! well do I know it," re- 
plied he; " and may the curse of God light upon him who has 
destroyed a better man than himself!" 

Without adding another word, he retired to Mount Deran, 
a prey to devouring melancholy. He shortly after received 
tidings of the death of his two sons whom he had left in the 
government of western Africa, and Avho had fallen victims to 
the jealous suspicions of the caliph. His advanced age was 
not proof against these repeated blows, and this utter ruin of 
liis late prosperous family, and he sank into liis grave sorrow- 
ing and broken-hearted. 



T.EGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 127 

Such was the lamentable end of the conqueror of Spain; 
whose great acliievements were not suflQcient to atone, in the 
eye of his sovereign, for a weakness to which all men ambi- 
tious of renown are subject; and whose triumphs eventually- 
brought persecution upon himself, and untimely death upon 
his children. 

Here ends the legend of the Subjugation of Spain. 



128 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAliY. 



LEGEND OF COUNT JULIAN AND HIS FAMILY. 



In the preceding legends is darkly shadowed out a true story 
jf the woes of Spain. It is a story full of wholesome admoni- 
tion, rebuking the insolence of human pride and the vanity of 
human ambition, and showing the futility of all greatness that 
is not strongly based on virtue. We have seen, in brief space 
Df time, most of the actors in this historic drama disappearing, 
one by one, from the scene, and going down, conqueror and 
conquered, to gloomy and unhonoured graves. It remains 
to close this eventful history by holding up, as a signal warn- 
ing, the fate of the traitor whose perfidious scheme of ven- 
geance brought ruin on his native land. 

Many and various are the accounts given in ancient chroni 
cles of the fortunes of Count Juhan and his family, and many 
are the traditions on the subject still extant among the popu- 
lace of Spain, and perpetuated in those countless ballads sung 
by peasants and muleteers, which spread a singular charm 
over the whole of this romantic land. 

He who has travelled in Spain in the true way in which the 
country ought to be travelled ; sojourning in its remote pro- 
vuices ; rambling among the rugged defiles and secluded val- 
leys of its mountains ; and making himself familiar with the 
people in their out-of-the-way hamlets and rarely-visited 
neighbourhoods, will remember many a group of travellers 
and muleteers, gathered of an evening around the door or the 
spacious hearth of a mountain venta, wrapped in their brown 
cloaks, and listening with grave and profound attention to the 
long historic ballad of some rustic troubadour, either recited 
with the true ore rotundo and modulated cadences of Spanish 
elocution, or chaunted to the tinkling of a guitar. In this way 
he may have heard the doleful end of Count Julian and his 
family recounted in traditionary rhymes, that have been 
handed down from generation to generation. The particulars, 
however, of the following wild legend are chiefly gathered 



LEGEND OF COUNT JULIAN ADD HIS FAMILY. 129 

from the writings of the pseudo Moor, Rasis ; how far they 
may be safely taken as historic facts it is impossible now to 
ascertain; we must content ourselves, therefore, with their 
answering to the exactions of poetic justice. 

As yet every thing had prospered with Count Julian. He 
had gratified his vengeance; he had been successful in his 
treason, and had acquired countless riches from the ruin of his 
country. But it is not outward success that constitutes pros- 
perity. The tree flourishes with fruit and foliage while blast- 
ed and witheiing at the heart. Wherever he went. Count 
Juhan read hatred in every eye. The Christians cursed him as 
the cause of all their woe ; the Moslems despised and distrusted 
him as a traitor. Men whispered together as he approached, 
D,nd then turned away in scorn ; and mothers snatched away 
their children with horror if he offered to caress them. He 
withered under the execration of his fellow-men, and last, 
and worst of all, he began to loathe himself. He tried in vain 
to persuade himself that he had but taken a justifiable ven- 
geance ; he felt that no personal wrong can justify the crime 
of treason to one's country. 

For a time, he sought in luxurious indulgence to soothe or 
forget the miseries of the mind. He assembled round him 
every pleasure and gratification that boundless wealth could 
purchase, but all in vain. He had no relish for the dainties of 
his board ; music had no charm wherewith to luU his soul, and 
remorse drove slumber from his pillow. He sent to Ceuta for 
his wife Frandina, his daughter Florinda, and his youthful son 
Alarbot ; hoping in the bosom of his family to find that sym- 
pathy and kindness which he could no longer meet with in the 
world. Their presence, however, brought him no alleviation, 
Florinda, the daughter of his heart, for whose sake he had 
undercaken this signal vengeance, was sinking a victim to its 
effects. Wherever she went, she found herself a by-word of 
shame and reproach. The outrage she had suffered was im- 
puted to her as wantonness, and her calamity was magnified 
into a crime. The Christians never mentioned her name with- 
out a curse, and the Moslems, the gainers by her misfortune, 
spake of her only by the appellation of Cavr the vilest epithet 
they could apply to woman. 

But the opprobrium of the world was nothing to the up- 
braiding of her own heart. She charged herself with all the 
miseries of these disastrous wars; the deaths of so many gallant 
cavaliers; the conquest and perdition of her country. Tho 



130 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

anguish of her mind preyed upon the beauty of her person. 
Her eye, once soft and tender in its expression, became wild 
and haggard ; her cheek lost its bloom, and became hollow and 
pallid, and at times there was desperation in her words. 
When her father sought to embrace her she withdrew with 
shuddering from his arms, for she thought of his treason and 
the ruin it had brought upon Spain. Her wretchedness in- 
creased after her return to her native country, until it rose to 
a degree of frenzy. One day when she was walking with her 
parents in the garden of their palace, she entered a tower, and, 
having barred the door, ascended to the battlements. From 
thence she called to them in piercing accents, expressive of 
her insupportable anguish and desperate determination. "Let 
this city," said she, "be henceforth called Malacca, in memo- 
rial of the most wretched of women, who therein put an end 
to her days." So saying, she threw herseK headlong from the 
tower and was dashed to pieces. The city, adds the ancient 
chronicler, received the name thus given it, though afterwards 
softened to Malaga, which it still retains m memory of the 
tragical end of Florinda. 

The Countess Frandina abandoned this scene of woe, and 
returned to Ceuta, accompanied by her infant son. She took 
with her the remains of her unfortunate daughter, and gave 
them honourable sepulture in a mausoleum of the chapel be- 
longing to the citadel. Count Juhan departed for Carthagena, 
where he remained plunged in horror at this doleful event. 

About this tune, the cruel Suleiman, having destroyed the 
family of Muza, had sent an Arab general, named Alahor, to 
succeed Abdalasis as emir or governor of Spain. The new 
emir was of a cruel and suspicious nature, and commenced his 
sway with a stern severity that soon made those under his 
command look back with regret to the easy ride of Abdalasis. 
He regarded with an eye of distrust the renegado Christians 
who had aided in the conquest, and who bore arms in the ser- 
vice of the Moslems ; but his deepest suspicions fell upon Count 
Julian. "He has been a traitor to his own countrymen," said 
he; " how can we be sure that he will not prove traitor to us?" 

A sudden insurrection of the Christians who had taken re- 
fuge in the Asturian mountains, quickened his suspicions, and 
inspired him with fears of seme dangerous conspiracy against 
his power. In the heig^it of his anxiety, he bethought him of 
an Arabian sage named Yuza, who had accompanied him from 
Africa. This son of science was, withered in form, and looked 



LEGEND OF COUNT JULIAN AND HIS FAMILY. 131 

as if he had outlived the usual term of mortal Mfe. In the 
course of his studies and travels iii the; east, he had collected 
the knowledge and experience of ages ; being skilled in astro- 
logy, and, it is said, in necromancy, and j)ossessing the mar- 
vellous gift of prophecy or divination. To this expounder of 
mysteries Alahor apphed to learn whether any secret treason 
menaced his safety. 

The astrologer hstened with deep attention, and overwhelm- 
ing brow, to all the surmises and suspicions of the emir, then 
shut himself up to consult his books a,nd commune with those 
supernatural intelligences subservient to his wisdom. At an 
appointed hour the emir sought Mm in his cell. It was filled 
with the smoke of perfumes ; squares and circles and various 
diagi'ams were described upon the floor, and the astrologer 
was poring over a scroll of parchment, covered with cabahstic 
characters. He received Alahor with a gloomy and sinister 
aspect ; pretendmg to have discovered fearfxil portents in the 
heavens, and to have had strange dreams and mystic visions. 

"O emir," said he, "be on your guard! treason is around 
you and in jonr path ; your life is in peril. Beware of Count 
Jvdian and his family." 

"Enough," said the emir. "They shall all die! Parents 
and children — all shall die !" 

He forthwith sent a summons to Count Julian to attend him 
in Cordova. The messenger found him plunged in aflftiction 
for the recent death of his daughter. The count excused him- 
self, on account of this misfortune, from obeying the commands 
of the emir in person, but sent several of his adherents. His 
hesitation, and the circumstance of his having sent his family 
across the straits to Africa, were construed by the jealous 
mind of the emir into proofs of guUt. He no longer doubted 
his being concerned in the recent insurrections, and that he 
had sent his family away, preparatory to an attempt, by force 
of arms, to subvert the Moslem domination. In his fury he 
put to death Siseburto and Evan, the nephews of Bishop Oppas 
and sons of the former king, Witiza, suspecting them of taking 
part in the treason. Thus did they expiate their treachery to 
their country in the fatal battle of the Guadalete. 

Alahor next hastened to Carthagena to seize upon Count 
Julian. So rapid were his movements that the count had 
barely time to escape mth fifteen cavaliers, with whom he 
took refuge in the strong castle of Marcuello, among the moun- 
tains of Arragon. The emir, enraged to be disappointed of hiti 



132 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

prey, embarked at Carthagena and crossed the straits to Ceiita, 
to make captives of the Countess Frandina and her son. 

The old chronicle from which we take this part of our legend, 
presents a gloomy picture of the countess in the stern fortress 
to which she had fled for refuge; a picture heightened by 
supernatural horrors. These latter, the sagacious reader will 
admit or reject according to the measure of his faith and 
judgment; always remembering that in dark and eventful 
times, hke those in question, involving the destinies of nations, 
the downfall of kingdoms, and the crimes of rulers and mighty 
men, the hand of fate is sometimes strangely visible, and con- 
founds the wisdom of the worldly wise, by intimations and 
portents above the ordinary course of things. With this pro- 
viso, we make no scruple to follow the venerable chronicler in 
his narration. 

Now so it happened, that the Countess Frandina was seated 
late at night in her chamber in the citadel of Ceuta, which 
stands on a lofty rock, overlooking the sea. She was revolv- 
ing in gloomy thought the late disasters of her family, when 
she heard a mournful noise like that of the sea breeze moan- 
ing about the castle walls, Raising her eyes, she beheld her 
brother, the Bishop Oppas, at the entrance of the chamber. 
She advanced to embrace him, but he forbade her with a 
motion of his hand, and she observed that he was ghastly 
pale, and that his eyes glared as with lambent flames, 

"Touch me not, sister," said he, with a mournful voice, "lest 
thou be consumed by the fire which rages within me. Guard 
well thy son, for blood-hounds are upon his track. His inno- 
cence might have secured him the protection of Heaven, but 
our crimes have involved hun in our common ruin," He 
ceased to speak and was no longer to be seen. His coming 
and going were alike without noise, and the door of the cham- 
ber remained fast bolted. 

On the following morning a messenger arrived with tidings 
that the Bishop Oppas had been made prisoner in battle by the 
insurgent Christians of the Asturias, and had died in fetters in 
a tower of the mountains. The same messenger brought word 
that the Emir Alahor had put to death several of the friends of 
Coimt Julian ; had obliged him to fly for his hfe to a castle in 
Arragon, and was embarking with a formidable force for Ceuta, 

The Countess Frandina, as has already been shown, was of 
courageous heart, and danger made her desperate. There were 
fifty Moorish soldiers in the garrison; she feared that the.V 



LEGEND OF COUNT JULIAN AND HIS FAMILY, 133 

■would prove treacherous, and take part with their country- 
men. Summoning her oflBcers, therefore, she informed them 
of their danger, and commanded them to put those Moors to 
death. The guai-ds sallied forth to obey her orders. Thirty- 
five of the Moors were in the great square, unsuspicious of any 
danger, when they were severally singled out by their execu- 
tioners, and, at a concerted signal, killed on the spot. The 
remaining fifteen took refuge in a tower. They saw the arma- 
da of the emir at a distance, and hoped to be able to hold out 
untU its arrival. The soldiers of the countess saw it also, and 
made extraordinary efforts to destroy these internal enemies 
before they should be attacked from without. They made 
repeated attempts to storm the tower, but were as often re- 
pulsed with severe loss. They then underixiined it, supporting 
its foundations by stanchions of wood. To these they set fire 
and withdrew to a distance, keeping up a constant shower of 
missiles to prevent the Moors from sallying forth to extinguish 
the flames. The stanchions were rapidly consumed, and when 
they gave way the tower fell to the groimd. Some of the 
Moors were crushed among the ruins ; others were flung to a 
distance and dashed among the rocks; those who survived 
were instantly put to the sword. 

The fleet of the emir arrived at Ceuta about the hour of ves- 
pers. He landed, but found the gates closed against him. The 
countess herself spoke to him from a tower, and set him at 
defiance. The emir immediately laid siege to the city. He 
consulted the astrologer Yuza, \7ho told him that for seven 
days his star would have the ascendant over that of the youth 
Alarbot, but after that time the youth would be safe from his 
power, and would effect his ruin. 

Alahor immediately ordered the city to be assailed on every 
side, and at length carried it by storm. The countess took 
refuge with her forces in the citadel, and made desperate de- 
fence ; but the walls were sapped and mined, and she saw that 
all resistance would soon be unavailing. Her only thoughts 
now were to conceal her cMld. "Surely," said she, "they 
will not think of seeking him among the dead." She led him 
therefore into the dark and dismal chapel. "Thou art not 
afraid to be alone in this darkness, my child?" said she. 

"No, mother," replied the boy; "dai'kness gives silence and 
sleep. " She conducted him to the tomb of Florinda. ' ' Fearest 
thou the dead, my child?" "No, mother; the dead can do no 
barm, and what should I fear from my sister?" 



134 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

The countess opened the sepulchre, "Listen, my son," said 
she. " There are fierce and cruel people who have come hither 
to murder thee. Stay here in company with thy sister, and 
be quiet as thou dost value thy life!" The boy, who was of a 
courageous nature, did as he was bidden, and remained there 
all that day, and all the night, and the next day until the 
third hour. 

In the meantime the walls of the citadel were sapped, the 
troops of the emir poured in at the breach, and a great part 
of the garrison was put to the sword. The countess was taken 
prisoner and brought before the emir. She appeared in his 
presence with a haughty demeanour, as if she had been a 
queen receivijig homage ; but when he demanded her son, she 
faltered and turned pale, and replied, ' ' My son is with the 
dead." 

"Countess," said the emir, "lam not to be deceived; tell 
me where you have concealed the boy, or tortures shall wring 
from you the secret." 

"Emir," replied the countess, "may the greatest torments 
be my portion, both here and hereafter, if what I speak be not 
the truth. My darling child lies buried with the dead. " 

The emir was confounded by the solemnity of her words; 
but the withered astrologer Yuza, who stood by his side re- 
garding the countess from beneath his bushed eyebrows, per- 
ceived trouble in her countenance and equivocation in her 
words. "Leave this matter to me," whispered he to Alahor. 
" I will produce the child." 

He ordered strict search to be made by the soldiery, and 
he obliged the countess to be always present. When they 
came to the chapel, her cheek turned pale and her h"p quivered. 
"This," said the subtile astrologer, "is the place of conceal- 
ment !" 

The search throughout the chapel, however, was equally 
vain, and the soldiers were about to depart, when Yuza re- 
marked a slight gleam of joy in the eye of the countess. "We 
are leaving our prey behind," thought he; "the countess is 
exulting." 

He now called to mind the words of her asseveration, that 
her child was with the dead. Turning suddenly to the soldiers 
he ordered them to search the sepulchres. "If you find him 
not," said he, "drag forth the bones of that wanton Cava, 
that they may be burnt, and the ashes scattered to the 
winds." 



LEGEND OF COUNT JULIAN AND HIS FAMILY. 135 

f 
The soldiers searched among the tombs and fomad that o 

Morinda partly open. Within lay the boy in the sound sleep 

of childhood, and one of the soldiers took him gently in his 

arms to bear him to the emir. 

When the countess beheld that her child was discovered, she 
rushed into the presence of Alahor, and, forgetting all her 
pride, threw herself upon her knees before him. 

"Mercy! mercy!" cried she in piercing accents, "mercy on 
my son — my only child ! O emir ! Hsten to a mother's prayer, 
and my lijDS shall kiss thy feet. As thou art merciful to him, 
so may the most high God have mercy upon thee, and heap 
blessings on tliy head. " 

' ' Bear that frantic woman hence, " said the emir, ' ' but 
guard her well. " 

The countess was dragged away by the soldiery without re- 
gard to her struggles and her cries, and confined in a dungeon 
of the citadal. 

The child was now brought to the emir. He had been 
awakened by the tumult, but gazed fearlessly on the stem 
countenances of the soldiers. Had the heart of the emir been 
capable of pity, it would have been touched by the tender youth 
and innocent beauty of the child; but his heart was as the 
nether millstone, and he was bent upon the destruction of the 
whole family of Jidian. Calling to him the astrologer, he gave 
the child into his charge with a secret command. The withered 
son of the desert took the boy by the hand, and led him up 
the winding staircase of a tower. When they reached the 
summit Yuza placed him on the battlements. 

" Cling not to mo, my child," said he; "there is no danger." 

"Father, I fear not," said the undaunted boy ; "yet it is a 
wondrous heiglit !" 

The child looked around with delighted eyes. The breeze 
blew his curling locks from about his face, and his cheek 
glowed at the boundless prospect; for the tower was reared 
upon that lofty promontory on which Hercules founded one of 
liis pillars. The surges of the sea were heard far below, beat- 
ing upon the rocks, the sea-gull screamed and wheeled about 
the foundations of the tower, and the sails of lofty caraccas 
were as mere specks on the bosom of the deep. 

" Dost thou know yonder land beyond the blue water?" said 
Yuza. 

"It is Spain," replied the boy; " it is the land of my father 
and my mother. " 



136 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

"Then stretch forth thy hands and bless it, my child, ' said 

the astrologer. 

The boy let go his hold of the wall, and, as he stretched forth 
his hands, the aged son of Ishmael, exerting all the strength of 
his withered Kmbs, suddenly pushed him over the battlements. 
He fell headlong from the top of that tall tower, and not a 
bone in his tender frame but was crushed upon the rocks 
beneath. 

Alahor came to the foot of the winding stair. 

" Is the boy safe?" cried he. 

"He is safe," replied Yuza; "come and behold the truth 
with thnie own eyes." 

The emir ascended the tower and looked over the battle- 
ments, and beheld the body of the child, a shapeless mass, on 
the rocks far below, and the sea-gulls hovering about ; and he 
gave orders that it should be thrown into the sea, which was 
done. 

On the following morning, the countess was led forth from 
her dungeon into the public square. She knew of the death of 
her child, and that her own death was at hand, but she neither 
wept nor supplicated. Her hair was dishevelled, her eyes were 
haggard with Avatching, and her cheek was as the monumental 
stone, but there were the remains of commanding beauty in 
her countenance, and the majesty of her joresence awed even 
the rabble into respect. 

A multitude of Christian prisoners were then brought forth ; 
and Alahor cried out — "Behold the wife of Count Julian; be- 
hold one of that traitorous family which has brought ruin 
Ui:)on yourselves and upon your countrj^." And he ordered 
that they shoiild stone her to death. But the Christians ^rew 
back with horror from the deed, and said — "In the uand of 
God is vengeance ; let not her blood be upon our heads. " Tlpon 
this the emir swore with horrid imprecations that whoever of 
tbe captives refused should himself be stoned to death. So the 
cruel order was executed, and the Countess Frandina perished 
by the hands of her countrymen. Having thus accomplished 
his barbarous errand, the enair embarked for Spain, and or- 
dered the citadel of Ceuta to be set on fire, and crossed the 
straits at night by the hght of its towering flames. 

The death of Count Julian, which took place not long after, 
closed the tragic story of his family. How he died remams in- 
volved in doubt. Some assert that the cruel Alahor pursued 
him to his retreat among the mountains, and, having taken 



LEGEND OF COUNT JULIAN AND HIS FAMILY. 137 

him prisoner, beheaded him; others that the Moors confined 
him in a dungeon, and put an end to his hfe with hngering 
torments ; while others affirm that the tower of the castle of 
Marcuello, near Huesca, in Arragon, in which he took refuge, 
fell on him and crushed him to pieces. All agree that his lat 
ter end was miserable in the extreme, and his death violent. 
The curse of heaven, which had thus pursued him to the grave, 
was extended to the very place which had given him shelter ; 
for we are told that the castle is no longer inhabited on ac- 
count of the strange and horrible noises that are heard in it ; 
and that visions of armed men are seen above it in the air ; 
which are supposed to be the troubled spirits of the apostate 
Chiistians who favoured the cause of the traitor. 

In after-times a stone sepulchre was shown, outside of the 
chapel of the castle, as the tomb of Count Julian; but the 
traveller and the pilgrim avoided it, or bestowed upon it a 
malediction ; and the name of Jidian has remained a by-word 
and a scorn in the land for the warning of all generations. 
Such ever be the lot of him who betrays his country. 

Here end the legends of the Conquest of Spain. 

Written in the Alhambra, June 10, 1829. 



NOTE TO THE PRECEDING LEGEND. 

El licenciado Arde\iines (Lib. 2, c. 8) dize que dichos 
Duendos caseros, o los del aire, hazen aparacer exercitos y 
peleas, como lo que se cuenta por tradicion (y aun algunos per- 
sonas lo deponen como testigos de vista) de la tori-e y castello 
de Marcuello, lugar al pie de las montaiias de Aragon (aora in- 
habitable, por las grandes y espantables ruidos, que en el se 
oyen) donde se retraxo el Conde Don Julian, causa de la per- 
dicion de Espaiia ; sobre el qual castillo, deze se ven en el aire 
ciertas visiones, como de soldados, que el vulgo dize son los 
cavalleros y gente que le favorecian. 

Vide "el Ente Dislucidado, " por Fray Antonio de Fuentala- 
pena Capuchin. Seccion 3, Subseccion 5, Instancia 8, Num. 644. 

As readers unversed in the Spanish language may wish to 
know the testimony of the worthy and discreet Capuchin friar, 
Antonio de Fuentalapeiia, we subjoin a translation of it: — 

" The licentiate j^'devinos (Book II., chap. 8) says, that the 



138 LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 

said house-fairies, (or fanuliar spirits,) or those of the air, 
cause the apparitions of armies and battles; such as those 
"which are related in tradition, (and some persons even depose 
to the truth of them as eye-witnesses,) of the town and castle 
of MarcuoUo, a fortress at the foot of the mountains of Ar- 
ragon, (at present uninhabitable, on account of the great and 
frightful noises heard in it,) the place of retreat of Coimt Don 
Juhan, the cause of the perdition of Spain. It is said that cer- 
tain apparitions of soldiers are seen in the air, which the vul- 
gar say are those of the courtiers and the people who aided 
him." 



SPANISH 



VOYAGES or DISCOYEEY. 



BY 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 



NEW YORK : 

WORTHINGTON CO. 
747 Broadway. 



I^V^ 



SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVEKY. 



bOlSTTEETS. 



PACr-K 

Introduction 5 

CHAP. ALONZO CE OJEDA. 

I. Some Account of Ojeda— Of Juan de la Cosa— Of Amerigo Vespucci — 

Preparations for the Voyage (1499) 9 

II. Departure from Spain — Arrival on the Coast of Paria— Customs of the 

Natives 13 

III. Coasting of Terra Firma — Military Expedition of Ojeda 15 

IV. Discovery of the Gulf of Venezuela — Transactions there — Ojeda explores 

the Gulf — Penetrates to Maracaibo 17 

V. Prosecution of the Voyage — Return to Spain 20 

PEDRO ALONZO NINO AND CHRISTOVAL GUERRA (1499). 
A.D.1499 22 

VICENTE YANEZ PINZON. 
A. D. 1499 .' 26 

DIEGO DE LEPE AND RODRIGO DE BASTIDES. 
J-.. D. 1500 32 

ALONZO DE OJEDA. Second Voyage. 



A. D. 1502 35 

ALONZO DE OJEDA. Third Voyage. 

I. Ojeda applies for a Command — Has a rival candidate in Diego de Nicuesa 

— Ilissuccess 41 

II. Feu.l between the Rival Governors, Ojeda and Nicuesa — A Challenge — 

(1509) 44 

III. Exploits and Disasters of Ojeda on the Coast of Carthagena — Fate of the 

veteran Juan de la Cosa (1509) 48 

IV. Arrival of Nicuesa — Vengeance taken on the Indians 52 

V. Ojeda founds the Colony of Snn Sebastian— Beleagured by the Indians 56 

VI. Alonzo de Ojeda supposed by the Savages to have a Charmed Life — Their 

Experiment to try the Fact 58 

VII. Arrival of a Strange Ship at San Sebastian 59 

VIII. Factions in the Colony— .\ Convention made 61 

IX. Disastrous Voyage of Ojeda in the Pirate Ship - 62 

X. Toilsome March of Ojeda and his Companions through the Morasses of 

Cuba 64 

XI. Ojeda performs his Vow to the Virgin 66 

XII. Arrival of Ojeda at .lamaica— His Reception by Juan de Esquibel 67 

xni. Arrival of Alonzo de Ojeda at San Domingo — Conclusion of his Story 69 

DIEGO DE NICUESA. 

I. Nicuesa sails to the Westward — His Shipwreck and subsequent Disasters.. 72 

II. Nicuesa and his men on a desolate Island 74 

III. Arrival of a Boat— Conduct of Lope de Olano 76 

IV. Nicuesa rejoins his Crews 77 

V. Sufferings of Nicuesa and his men on the Coast of the Isthmus 78 

VI. Expedition of the Bachelor Enciso in search of the Seat of Government 

of Ojeda (I.'IO) 81 

VII. The Bachelor hears unwelcome Tidinsrs of his destined .Tiirisdiction 84 

VIII. Crusade of the Bachelor Enciso against the Sepulchres of Zenu 85 



4 CONTENTS. 

CHAP. PAGE 

IX. The Bachelor arrives at San Sebastian— His Disasters there, and subse- 
quent Exploits at Darieu 83 

X. The Bachelor Euciso undertakes the Ooinniand— His Downfall 90 

XI. Perplexities at the Colony— Arrival of Colmenai-es 91 

XII. Colmeuares goes in quest of Nicuesa 92 

XIII. Catastrophe of the unfortunate Nicuesa 95 

VASCO NUNEZ DE B.\LBOA, Discoverer of the Pacific Ocean. 

I. Factions at Darien — Vasco Nunez elected to the Command 99 

II. Expedition to Coyba— Vasco Nufiez receives the Daughter of a Cacique 

as hostage 101 

III. Vasco Nuiiez hears of a Sea beyond the Mountains 104 

IV. Expedition of Vasco Niulez in quset of the Golden Temple of Dobayba. 107 
V. Disaster on the Black River— Indian Plot against Darieu Ill 

VI. Further Factions in the Colony— Arrogance of Alonzo Perez and the 

Bachelor Corral 113 

Wl. Vasco Nufiez determines to seek the Sea beyond the Mountains (1513). 117 

VUI. Expedition in quest of the Southern Sea 118 

IX. Discovery of the Pacific Ocean 121 

X. Vasco Nunez marches to the Shores of the South Sea 124 

XI. Adventures of Vasco Nunez on the Borders of the Pacific Ocean 127 

XII. Further Adventures and Exploits of Vasco Nunez 131 

XIII. Vasco Nuiiez sets out on his return across the Mountains— His contests 

w ith the Savages 133 

XIV. Enterprise against Tubanama, the warlike Cacique of the Mountains — 

Return to Darien 136 

XV. Transactions in Spain— Pedrarias Davila appointed to the Command 
of Darien — Tidings received in Spain of the Discovery of the Pacific 

Ocean 139 

XVI. Arrival and Grand Entry of Don Pedrarias Davila into Darien. 144 

XVII. Perfidious Conduct of Don Fedrarius towards Vasco Nunez 147 

XVITI. Calamities of the Spanish Cavaliers at Darien 149 

XIX. Fruitless Expedition of Pedrarias 151 

XX. Second Expedition of Vasco NuRez in quest of the Golden Temple of 

Dobayba 153 

XXI. Letters "from the King in favor of Vasco Nunez— Arrival of Garabito— 

Arrest of Vasco Nufiez (lol.'j) 155 

XXII. Expedition of Morales and Pizarro to the Shores of the Pacific Ocean— 
Their Visit to the Pearl Islands— Their disastrous Return across the 

Mountains 157 

ZXIII. Unfortunate Enterprises of the Officers of Pedrarias— Matrimonial 

Compact between the Governor and Vasco Nunez 106 

IXIV. Vasco Nunez transports ships across the Mountains to the Pacific 

Ocean (1.516) ICO 

XXV. Cruise of Vasco Nuiiez in the Southern Sea— Rumours from Ada 169 

XXVI. Reconnoitering Expedition of Garabito— Stratagem of Pedrarias to 

entrap Vasco Nufiez 170 

XXVII Vasco Nunez and the Astrologer— His return to Ada 172 

XXVin. Trial of Vasco Nunez 174 

XXIX. Execution of Vasco Niuiez (1517) 177 

Valdivia and his Companions 180 

Micer Codro, the Astrologer 189 

JUAN PONCE DE LEON, Conqueror op Porto Rico and Discoverer op Florida. 

I. Reconnoitering Expedition of Juan Ponce de Leon to the Island of 

Boriquen (1.5<W) 101 

II. Juan Ponce aspires to the Government of Porto Rico (1.500) 193 

III. Juan Ponce rules with a strong hand— Exasperation of the Indians — Their 

Experiment to prove whether the Spanlaids were mortal 195 

TV. Conspiracy of the Caciques —The. Fate of Sotomaj-or 196 

V. War of Juan Ponce wi'h the C;ici(iue Agueybanft 199 

VI. Juan Ponce de Leon htais of a wondei-fut Country and miraculous Foun- 
tain 208 

VTT. Cruise of Juan Ponce de Leon in search of the Fountain of Youth (1512). . . 205 
VIII. Expedition of Juan Ponce against the Caribs— His Death (1514) 207 

APPENDIX. 

A Visit toP.ilos 211 

Manifesto of Alonzo de Ojeda 226 



lE-TEODUOTIOlSr. 



The first discovery of the western hemisphere has already 
been related by the author in his History of Columbus. It is 
proposed by him, in the present work, to narrate the enterprises 
of cei-tain of the companions and disciples of the admiral, who, 
enkindled by his zeal, and instructed by his example, sallied 
forth separately in the vast region of adventui-e to which he 
had led the way. Many of them sought merely to skirt the 
continent which he had partially visited, and to secure the first 
fruits of the pearl fisheries of Paria and Cubaga, or to explore 
the coast of Veragua, which he had represented as the Aurea 
Chersonesus of the Ancients. Others aspired to accompHsh a 
grand discovery which he had meditated toward the close of 
his career. In the course of his expeditions along the coast of 
Terra Firma, Cohunbus had repeatedly received information 
of the existence of a vast sea to the south. He supposed it to 
be the great Indian Ocean, the region of the Oriental spice 
islands, and that it must communicate by a strait with the Ca- 
ribbean Sea. His last and most disastrous voyage was made 
for the express purpose of discovering that imaginary strait, 
and making Ms way into this Southern Oc«an. The illustrious 
navigator, however, was doomed to die, as it were, upon the. 
threshold of his discoveries. It was reserved for one of his fol- 1 
lowers, Vasco Nuiiez de Balboa, to obtain the first view of the 
promised ocean, from the lofty mountains of Darien, some 
years after the eyes of the venerable admiral had been closed 
in death. 

The expeditions herein narrated, therefore, may be considered 
as springing immediately out of the voyages of Columbus, and 
fulfilling some of his gi-and designs. They may be compared 
to the attempts of adventurous knights errant to achieve the 
enterprise left tmfinished by some illustrious predecessor. 
Neither is this comparison entirely fancifid. On the contrary, 



e ,spjNisi/ voy.K!/:^ of discovery. 

it is a curious fact, well worthy of notice, that the spirit of 
chivalry entei-ed largely into the early expeditions of the Span- 
sh discoverers, giving them a character Avholly distinct fi'Oin 
inular enterprises undertaken by otlicr nations. It will not, 
•eriiaps, be considered far sought, if we trace the cause of this 
icculiarity to the domestic histoiy of the Spaniards during the 
middle ages. 

Eight centuries of incessant warfare with the Moorish usurp- 
ers of the peninsida produced a deep and lasting effect upon the 
Spanirsh charact'^i' and manners. The war being ever close at 
home, UTingled itself with the doniestic habits and concerns of 
the Spaniard. He was born a soldier. The wild and predatory 
nature of the war, also, made him a kind of chivalrous marauder. 
His hoi'se and weapon were always ready for the field. His 
delight was in roving incursions and extravagant exploits, and 
no gain was so glorious in his eyes as the cavalgada of spoils 
and captives, driven home in tiiimiph from a plundered prov- 
ince. Religion, which has ever held great empire in the Span- 
ish mind, lent its aid to sanctify these roving and ravaging pro- 
pensities, and the Castilian cavalier, as he sacked the towns 
and laid waste the fields of his Moslem neighbour, piously be- 
lieved he was doing God service. 

The conquest of Granada put an end to the peninsula wax's 
between christian and infidel; the spirit of Spanish chivalry 
was thus suddenly deprived of its wonted sphere of action ; but 
it had been too long fostered and excited to be as suddenly ap- 
pcjased. The youth of the nation, bred up to daring adventure 
and heroic achievement, could not brook the tranquil and regu- 
lar pursuits of common life, but panted for some new field of 
romantic enterprise. 

It was at this juncture that the grand project of Columbus 
^vas carried into effect. His treaty with the sovereigns was, in 
a manner, signed with the same pen that had subscribed the 
capitulation of the Moorish capital, and his first expedition may 
almost be said to have departed from beneath the walls of Gra- 
nada. Many of the youthful cavaliers who had fleshed their 
s^vords in that memorable war, crowded the ships of the dis- 
coverers, thinking a new career of arms was to be opened to them 
— a kind of ci'usade into splendid and unknown regions of infi- 
dels. The very weapons and armour that had been used against 
the Moors weie drawn from the arsenals to equip the discover- 
ers, find some of the most noted of the early commanders in the 
new world wO! be found to have made their first essay in arms 



INTRODUCTION. 7 

under the banner of Ferdinand and Isabella, in their romantic 
campaigns among the mountains of Andalusia. 

To these circumstances may, in a great measure, be ascribed 
that sweUing chivalrous spirit which will be found continually 
mingling, or rather warring, \^ith the technical habits of the 
seamen, and the sordid schemes of the mercenary adventurer ; 
in these early Spanish discoveries, chivalry had left the land 
and launched upon the deep. The Spanish cavalier had em- 
barked in the Caraval of the discoverer ; he carried among the 
trackless wildernesses of the new world, the same contempt of 
danger and fortitude under suffering, the same restless roaming 
spirit, the same passion for inroad and ravage, and vain-glori- 
ous exploit, and the same fervent, and often bigoted, zeal for 
the propagation of his faith that had distmgiiished him during 
his warfare vdih. the Moors. Instances in point will be found 
in the extravagant career of the daring Ojeda, particularly in 
his adventures along the coast of Terra Firma and the wild 
shores of Cuba. In the sad story of the ' ' unfortunate Nicuesa ;" 
graced as it is with occasional touches of high-bred courtesy ; 
in the singular cruise of that brave, but credulous, old cavalier, 
Juan Ponce de Leon, who fell upon the flowery coast of Florida, 
in his search after an imaginary fountain of youth ; and above 
all in the chequered fortimes of Vasco Nunez de Balboa, whose 
discovery of the Pacific ocean, forms one of the most beautiful 
and striking incidents in the history of the new world, and 
whose fate might furnish a theme of wonderful interest for a 
poem or a drama. 

The extraordinary actions and adventures of these men, 
while they rival the exploits recorded in chivaMc tale, have 
the additional interest of verity. They leave us in admiration 
of the bold and heroic quahties inherent in the Spanish char- 
acter, which led that nation to so high a pitch of power and 
glory, and which are still discernible in the great mass of that 
gallant people, by those who have an opportunity of judging;- 
of them rightly. 

Before concluding these prefatory remarks, the author 
would acknowledge how much he has been indebted to the 
third volume of the invaluable Historical collection of Don 
Martin Fernandez de Navarrete, wherein he has exhibited his 
usual industry, accuracy, and ciitical acumen. He has lilvc- 
wise profited greatly by the second volume of Oviedo's general 
history, which only exists in manuscript, and a copy of which 
ho found in the Columbian libi-ary of the Cathedi-al of Seville. 



8 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCO VERY. 

He lias had some assistance also from the documents of the 
law-case between Don Diego Columbus and the Crown, which 
exist in the archives of the Indies ; and for an inspection of 
which he is much indebted to the permission of the Spanish 
Government and the kind attentions of Don Josef de La Hi- 
guera Lara, the keeper of the archives. These, with the his- 
torical works of Las Casas, Herrera, Gomera, and Peter Martyr, 
have been his authorities for the facts contained in the follow- 
ing work ; though he has not thought proper to refer to them 
continually at the bottom of his page. 

While his work was going through the press he received a 
volume of Spanish Biography, written with great elegance and 
accuracy, by Don Manuel Josef Quintana, and containing a 
life of Vasco Nuiiez de Balboa. He was gratified to find that 
his arrangement of facts was generally corroborated by tliis 
work ; though he was enabled to correct his dates in several 
instances, and to make a few other emendations from the vol- 
ume of Seiior Quintana, whose position in Spain gave him the 
means of attaining superior exactness on these points. 



VOYAGES AND DISCOVERIES 

OF THE 

COMPANIONS OF COLUMBUS. 



To declare ray opinion herein, whatsoever hath heretofore been discovered by 
the famous travayles of Satunms and Hercules, with such other whom the An- 
tiquitie for their heroical acts honoured as gods, seemeth but little and obscure, if 
it be compared to the victorious labors of the Spanyards.— P. Martyr, Decad. III. c. 
4. Lock's translation. 



ALONZO DE OJEDA.* 

HIS FIRST VOYAGE, IN WHICH HE WAS ACCOMPANIED BY 
AMERIGO VESPUCCI.i 



CHAPTER I. 



SOME ACCOUNT OF OJEDA— OF JUAN DE LA COSA — OF AMERIGO 
VESPUCCI — PREPARATIONS FOR THE VOYAGE. — (1499.) 

Those who have read the History of Columbus will, doubt- 
less, remember the character and exploits of Alonzo de Ojeda; 
as some of the readers of the following pages, however, may 
not have perused that v/ork, and as it is proposed at present to 
trace the subsequent fortunes of tliis youthful adventurer, a 
brief sketch of him may not be deemed superfluous. 

Alonzo de Ojeda was a native of Cuenca, ia New Castile, 
and of a respectable family. He was brought up as a page or 
esquire, in the service of Don Luis de Cerda, Duke of Medina 
CeK, one of the most powerful nobles of Spain ; the same who 
for some time patronised Columbus during his apphcation to 
the Spanish court. I 

* Ojeda is pronounced in Spanish Oheda, with a strong aspiration of the h. 

t "Vespucci, Vespuchj-. 

t Varones Ilustres, por F. Pizarro y Orellana, p. 41. Las Casas, Hist. Ind. I. i. c. 82- 



10 SPAmSJI VOYAOI'JS OP' mSCOVKRY. 

In those warlike days, when the peninsula was distracted by 
contests between the christian kingdoms, by feuds between the 
nobles and the crown, and by the incessant and marauding 
warfare with the Moors, the household of a Spanish nobleman 
was a complete school of arms, where the youth of the country 
were sent to be trained up in all kinds of hardy exercises, and 
to be led to battle under an illustrious banner. 8uch was es- 
pecially the case with the service of the Duke of Medina CeU, 
who possi.'ssed princely domains, whose household was a petty 
court, who led legions of armed retainers to the field, and who 
appeared in splendid state and with an inunense retinue, more 
as an ally of Ferdinand and Isabella, than as a subject. He 
engaged in many of the roughest expeditions of the mem- 
orable war of Granada, always insisting on leadinc: his own 
troops in person, when the service was of pecuhar difficulty 
and danger. Alonzo de Ojeda was formed to signalize himself 
in such a school. Though small of stature, he was wcU made, 
and of wonderful force and activity, with a towering spii-it 
and a daring eye that seemed to make up for deficiency of 
height. He was a bold and graceful horseman, an excellent 
foot soldier, dexterous with every weapon, and noted for his 
extraordinary skill and adroitness in aU feats of strength and 
agility. 

He must have been qviite yoimg when he followed the duke 
of Medina Cell, as page, to the Moorish wars: for he was but 
about twenty-one years of age when he accompanied Colum- 
bus in his second voyage; ho had already, however, distin- 
guished hunself by his enterprising spirit and headlong valour ; 
and his exploits during that voyage contributed to enhance liis 
reputation. He i-eturned to Spain with Columbus, but did not 
accompany hmi m his third voyage, in the spring of 1498. He 
J was probably impatient of subordination, and ambitious of a 
separate employment or command, which the influence of his 
connexions gave him a great chance of obtaining. He had a 
cousin-german of his own name, the reverend Padre Alonzo de 
Ojeda, a Dominican friar, who was one of the first inquisitors 
of Spain, and a great favourite with the Catholic sovereigns.* 
This father inquisitor was, moreover, an intimate friend of the 
bishop Don Juan Rodriguez Fonseca, who had the chief man- 
agement of the affairs of the Indies, under which general name 
were comprehended all the countries discovered in the new 



♦ Pizano. Varoiies Iliistres. 



ALONZO BE OJEDA. H 

world. Throup;h tbe good oflSces of his cousin inquisitor, there^ 
fore, Ojedo had been introduced to the notice of the bishop, 
who took liiui into his especial favour and patronage. Men-- 
tion has already been made, in the History of Columbus, of a 
present made by the bishop to Ojeda of a small Flemish paint- 
ing of the Holy Virgin. This the young adventurer carried 
about with him as a protecting relic, invoking it at all times of 
peril, whether by sea or land ; and to the special care of the 
Virgin he attributed the remarkable circumstance that he had 
never been wounded in any of the innumerable brawls and 
battles into which ho was continually betrayed by his rash and 
fiery temperament. 

While Ojeda was lingering about the court, letters were 
received from Cohunbus, giving an account of the events of 
his third voyage, especially of his discovery of the coast of 
Paria, which he described as abounding with drugs and spices, 
with gold and silver, and precious stones, and, above all, with 
oriental pearls, and which he supposed to be the borders of 
that vast and unknown region of the East, wherein, according 
to certain learned theorists, was situated the terrestrial para- 
dise. Specimens of the pearls, procured in considerable quan- 
tities from the natives, accompanied his epistle, together with 
charts descriptive of his route. These tidings caused a great 
sensation among the maritime adventurers of Spain; but no 
one was more excited by them than Alonzo de Ojeda, who, 
from his intimacy with the bishop, had full access to the 
charts and correspondence of Colmnbus. He immediately 
conceived the project of making a voyage in the route thus 
marked out by the admiral, and of seizing upon the first fruits 
of discovery which he had left ungathered. His scheme met 
with ready encouragement from Fonseca, who, as has hereto- 
fore been shown, was an implacable enemy to Columbus, and 
willing to promote any measure that might mjure or molest 
him. The bishop accordingly granted a commission to Ojeda, 
authorizing him to fit out an armament and proceed on a 
voyage of discovery, with the proviso merely that he should 
not visit any territories appertaining to Portugal, or any of 
the lands discovered in the name of Spain previous to the year 
1495. The latter part of this provision appears to have been 
craftily worded by the bishop, so as to leave the coast of Paria 
and its pearl fisheries open to Ojeda, they having been recently 
discovered by Columbus in 1498. 

The commission was signed by Fonseca alone, in virtue of 



12 SPANISH rOYAOeS OF DISCOVERT. 

general powers vested in him for such purposes, but the signa> 

tui'e of the sovereigns did not appear on the instrument, and 
it is doubtful whether their sanction was sought on the occa- 
sion. He knew that Columbus had recently remonstrated 
against a royal mandate issued in 1495, permitting voyages of 
discovery, by private adventurers, and that the sovereigns 
had in consequence revoked their mandate wherever it might 
be deemed prejudicial to the stipulated privileges of the 
admiral.* It is probable, therefore, that the bishop avoided 
raismg any question that might impede the enterprise ; being 
confident of the ultimate approbation of Ferdinand, who 
would be well pleased to have his dominions in the new world 
extended by the discoveries of private adventurers, under- 
taken at their own expense. It was stipulated in this, as weU 
as in subsequent licenses for private expeditions, that a certain 
proportion of the profits, generally a fourth or fifth, should be 
reserved for the crown. 

Having thus obtained permission to make the voyage, the 
next consideration with Ojeda was to find the means. He was 
a young adventurer, a mere soldier of fortime, and destitute of 
wealth; but he had a high reputation for courage and enter- 
prise, and with these, it was thought, would soon make his 
way to the richest parts of the newly discovered lands, and 
have the wealth of the Indies at his disposal. He had no diffi- 
culty, therefore, in finding monied associates among the rich 
merchants of Seville, who, in that age of discovery, were ever 
ready to stake their property upon the schemes of roving navi- 
gators. With such assistance he soon equipped a squadron of 
four vessels at Port St. Mary, opposite Cadiz. Among the 
seamen who engaged A\ath him were several who had just 
J returned from accompanying Columbus in his voyage to this 
very coast of Paria. The principal associate of Ojeda, and one 
on whom he placed great reliance, was Juan de la Cosa ; who 
accompanied him as first mate, or, as it was termed, chief pilot. 
This was a bold Biscayan, who may be regarded as a disciple 
of Columbus, with whom he had sailed in his second voyage, 
when he coasted Cuba and Jamaica, and he had since accom- 
panied Rodrigo de Bastides, in an expedition along the coast of 
Terra Firma. The hardy veteran was looked up to by his con- 
temporaries as an oracle of the seas, and was pronounced one 
of the most able mariners of the day; he may be excused, 

♦ Navarrele, t. ii. Document, cxili. 



'ALONZO BE OJEDA. 13 

therefore, if in his harmless vanity he considered himself on a 
par even with Columbus. * 

Another conspicuous associate of Ojeda, in this voyage, was 
Amerigo Vespucci, a Florentine merchant, induced by broken 
fortunes and a rambhng disposition to seek adventures in the 
new world. Whether he had any pecuniary interest in the 
expedition, and in what capacity he sailed, does not appear. 
His importance has entii'ely arisen from subsequent circum- 
stances ; from his having written and pubHshed a narrative of 
his voyages, and from his name having eventually been given 
to the new world. 



CHAPTER II. 



DEPARTURE FROM SPAIN — ARRIVAL ON THE COAST OF PARIA — 
CUSTOMS OF THE NATIONS. 

Ojeda sailed from Port St. Mary on the 20th of May, 1499, 
and, having touched for supphes at the Canaries, took a depar- 
ture from Gomara, pursuing the route of Columbus, in his 
third voyage, being guided by the chart he had sent home, at 
weU as by the mariners who had accompanied him on that 
occasion. At the end of twenty-four days he reached the 
continent of the new world, a"bout two hundred leagues far- 
ther south than the part discovered by Columbus, being, as it 
is supposed, the coast of Surinam.! 

From hence he ran along the coast of the Gulf of Paria, 
passing the mouths of many rivers, but especially those of the 
Esquivo and the Oronoko. These, to the astonishment of 
the Spaniai-ds, unaccustomed as yet to the mighty rivers of 
the new world, poured forth such a prodigious volume of 
water, as to freshen the sea for a great extent. They beheld 
none of the natives until they arrived at the Island of Trini- 
dad, on which island they met with traces of the recent visit 
of Columbus. 

Vespucci, in his letters, gives a long description of the people 
of this island and of the coast of Paria, who were of the Carib 
race, tall, well-made and vigorous, and expert with the bow, 
the lance, and the buckler. His desciiption, in general, resem- 

*Navarette. Collec. Viag., t. iii., p. 4. tNavarrete, t. iii., p. Zl\. 



14 SPAmSlI VOYAGIiJS OF DISeOVERY. 

bles those which have frequently been given of the Aboriginals 
of the new world ; there are two or three particulars, however, 
Avorthy of citation. 

They appeared, he said, to believe in no religious creed, to 
have no place of worship, and to make no prayers or sac- 
rifices; but, he adds, from the voluptuousness of their lives, 
they might be considered Epicureans.* Their habitations 
were built in the shape of bells ; of the trunks of trees, thatched 
with palm leaves, and were proof against wind and weather. 
They appeared to be in common, and some of them were of 
such magnitude as to contain six hundred persons: in one 
place there were eight principal houses capable of sheltering 
nearly ten thousand inhabitants. Every seven or eight years 
the natives were obhged to change their residence, from the 
maladies engendered by the heat of the cUmate in their 
crowded habitations. 

Their riches consisted in beads and ornaments made from. 
the bones of fishes; in small white and gi'een stones strung 
like rosaries, with wliich they adorned their persons, and in 
the beautiful plumes of various colours for which the t'^opical 
birds are noted. 

The Spaniards smiled at their simplicity in attaching an 
extraordinary value to such wortliless trifles ; while the sav- 
ages, in all probability, were equally surprised at beholding 
the strangers so eager after gold, and pearls and precious 
stones, which to themselves were objects of indifference. 

Their manner of treating the dead was smiilar to that ob- 
served among the natives of some of the islands. Having 
deposited the corpse in a cavern or sepulchre, they placed a jar 
of water and a few eatables at its head, and then abandoned 
it without moan or lamentation. In some parts of the coast, 
when a person was considered near his end, his nearest rela- 
tives bore him to the woods and laid liim in a hammock sus- 
pended to the trees. They then danced round him until 
evening, when, having left within his reach sufficient meat 
and drink to sustain him for four days, they repaired to their 
habitations. If he recovered and returned home, he was re- 
ceived with much ceremony and rejoicing; if he died of his 
malady or of famine, nothing more was thought of him. 

Their mode of treating a fever is also worthy of mention. 
In the height of the malady they plunged the patient in a bath 

♦ ViuKcs (le Vespucci. Navarrete, t. iii., p. 211. 



alo:nzo de ojeda. 15 

of the coldest water, after which they obliged him to make 
many evolutions round a gi'eat fire, until he was in a violent 
heat, when they put him to bed, that he might sleep : a treat- 
ment, adds Amerigo Vespucci, by which we saw many cured. 



CHAPTER III. 



COASTING OF TERRA FIRMA— MILITARY EXPEDITION OF OJEDA. 

After touching at various parts of Trinidad and the Gulf 
of Paria, Ojeda passed through the strait of the Boca del 
Drago, or Dragon's Mouth, which Columbus had found so 
formidable, and then steered his course along the coast of 
Terra Fii-ma, landing occasionally until he arrived at Curiana, 
or the Gulf of Pearls. From hence he. stood to the opposite 
island of Margarita, previously discovered by Columbus, and 
since renowned for its pearl fishery. This, as weU as several 
adjacent islands, he visited and explored; after which ho re- 
turned to the main land, and touched at Cumana and Mara- 
capana, where he found the rivers infested with aUigatoi-s re- 
sembling the crocodiles of the Nile. 

Finding a convenient harbour at Maracapana he unloaded 
and careened his vessels there, and built a small brigantine. 
The natives came to him in gi'eat numbers, bringing abundance 
of venison, fish, and cassava bread, and aiding the seamen in 
their labours. Their hospitality was not certainly disinter- 
ested, for they sought to gain the protection of the Spaniaras, 
whom they reverenced as superhuman beings. When they 
thought they had sufficiently secured their favour, they repre- 
sented to Ojeda that their coast was subject to invasion from 
a distant island, the inhabitants of which were cannibals, and 
carried their people into captivity, to be devoured at their 
unnatural banquets. They besought Ojeda, therefore, to 
avenge them upon these ferocious enemies. 

The request was gratifying to the fighting propensities of 
Alonzo de Ojeda, and to his love of adventure, and was readily 
granted. Taking seven of the natives on board of his vessels, 
therefore, as guides, he set sail in quest of the cannibals. 
After sailing for seven days he came to a chain of island^ 



16 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

some of which were peopled, others uninhabited, and which 
are supposed to have been the Carribee islands. One of these 
was pointed out by his guides as the habitation of tlieir fo;>s. 
On running near the shore he beheld it thronged with savage 
warriors, decorated with coronets of gaudy plumes, their 
bodies painted ^^dth a vai'iety of colours. They were armed 
with bows and arrows, with darts, lances, and bucklers, and 
seemed prepared to defend their island from invasion. 

This show of war was calculated to rouse the martial spirit 
of Ojeda. He brought his ships to anchor, ordered out his 
boats, and provided each "vvith a paterero or small cannon. 
Beside the oarsmen, each boat contained a number of soldiers, 
who were told to crouch out of sight in the bottom. The 
boats then pulled in steadily for the shore. As they ap- 
proached, the Indians let fly a cloud of arrows, but without 
much effect. Seeing the boats continue to advance, the sav- 
ages threw themselves into the sea, and brandished their lances 
to prevent their landing. Upon this, the soldiers sprang up in 
the boats and discharged the patereroes. At the sound and 
smoke of these unknown weapons the savages abandoned the 
water in affright, while Ojeda and his men leaped on shore 
and pursued them. The Carib warriors rallied on the banks, 
and fought for a long time Avith that courage peculiar to their 
race, but were at length driven to the woods, at the edge of the 
sword, leaving many killed and wounded on the field of battle. 

On the following day the savages were seen on the shore in 
stiU greater niunbers, armed and painted, and decorated with 
war plumes, and sounding defiance with their conchs and 
drums. Ojeda again landed fifty-seven men, whom he sep- 
arated into four companies, and ordered them to charge the 
enemy from different directions. The Caribs fought for a 
time hand to hand, displaying great dexterity in covering 
themselves with their bucklers, but were at length entirely 
routed and driven, with great slaughter, to the forests. The 
Spaniards had but one man killed and twenty -one woimded ui 
these combats, — such superior advantage did their armour 
give them over the naked savages. Having plundered and set 
fire to the houses, they returned triumphantly to tlioir ships, 
Avith a number of Carib captiv(rs, and made sail for the main 
land. Ojeda bestowed a part of the spoil upon the seven 
Indians who had accompanied him as guides, and sent them 
exulting to their homes, to relate to their coimtrymen the 
signal vengeance that had been wreaked upon their foes. He 



ALONZO BE OJEDA. 17 

then anchored in a bay, where he remained for twenty days, 
until his men had recovered from their wounds.* 



CHAPTER IV. 



DISCOVERY OF THE GULF OF VENEZUELA — TRANSACTIONS THERE 
— OJEDA EXPLORES THE GULF — PENETRATES TO MARACAIBO. 

His crew being refreshed, and the wounded suflBciently re- 
covered, Ojeda made sail, and touched at the island of Cui'azao, 
which, according to the accounts of Vespucci, was inhabited by 
a race of giants, "every woman appearing a Penthesilea, and 
every man an Ant8eus."t As Vespucci w as a scholar, and as he 
supposed himself exploring the regions of the extreme East, the 
ancient realm of fable, it is probable his unagination deceived 
him, and construed the formidable accounts given by the In- 
dians of their cannibal neighbours of the islands, into some- 
tlaing according with his recollections of classic fable. Certain 
it is, that the reports of subsequent voyagers proved the in- 
habitants of the island to be of the ordinary size. 

Proceeding along the coast, he arrived at a vast deep giilf, 
resembling a tranquil lake ; entering which, he beheld on the 
eastern side a village, the construction of which struck him 
with surprise. It consisted of twenty large houses, shaped like 
bells, and built on piles driven into the bottom of the lake, 
which, in this part, was limpid and of but little depth. Each 
house was provided with a drawbridge, and with canoes, by 
which the communication was carried on. From these resem- 
blances to the Itahan city, Ojeda gave to the bay the name of 
the Gulf of Venice : and it is called at the present day Vene^ 
zuela, or Little Venice : the Indian name was Coquibacoa. 

When the inhabitants beheld the ships standing into the 
bay, looking like wonderfid and unknown apparitions from the 
deep, they fled with terror to their houses, and raised the 
drawbridges. The Spaniards remained for a tune gazing with 



* There is some discrepance in the early accounts of this battle, as to the time 
and place of its occurrence. The author has collated the narratives of Vespucci, 
Las Casas, Herrera, and Peter Martyr, and the evidence given in the law-suit of 
Diogo Columbus, and has endeavoured as much as possible to reconcile them. 

+ Vespucci.— Letter to Lorenao de Pier Francisco de Medicis. 



18 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

admii'ation at this amphibious village, wh^n ' a squadron of 
canoes entered the hai'bour from the sea. On beholding the 
sliips they paused in mute amazement, and on the Spaniards 
attempting to approach them, paddled swiftly to shore, and 
plunged into the forest. They soon returned with sixteen 
young girls, whom they conveyed in their canoes to the ships, 
distributing four on board of each, either as peace-offerings or 
as tokens of amity and confidence. The best of understanding 
now seemed to be established ; and the inhabitants of the vil- 
lage came swarming about the ships in their canoes, and others 
swinnning in great nujubers from the shores. 

The friendship of the savages, however, was all delusive. On 
a sudden, several old women at the doors of the houses uttered 
loud shrieks, tearing their liair in fury. It appeared to be a 
signal for hostihty. The sixteen nj'inphs plunged into the sea 
and made for shore; the Indians in the canoes caught up 
their bows and discharged a flight of arrows, and even those 
who were swimming brandished darts and lances, which they 
liad hitherto concealed beneath the Avater. 

Ojeda was for a moment surprised at seeing war thus start- 
ing up on every side, and the very sea bristling Avith weapons. 
Manning his boats, he immediately charged among the thick- 
est of the enemy, shattered and sunk several of their canoes, 
killed twenty Indians and wounded many more, and spread 
such a panic among them, that most of the survivors flung 
themselves into the sea and swam to shore. Three of them 
were taken prisoners, and two of the fugitive girls, and were 
conveyed on board of the ships, where the men were put in 
irons. One of them, hoAvever, and the two girls, succeeded in 
dexterously escaping the same night. 

Ojeda had but five men wounded in "the affray, all of whom 
recovered. He visited the houses, but found them abandoned 
and destitute of booty ; notwithstanding the unprovoked hos- 
tility of the inhabitants, he spared the buildings, that he might 
not cause useless irritation along the coast. 

Continuing to explore this gulf, Ojeda penetrated to a port 
or harbour, to which he gave the name of St. Bartholomew, 
but which is supposed to be the same at present known by the 
original Indian name of Maracaibo. Here, in compliance with 
the entreaties of the natives, lie sent a detachment of twenty- 
seven Spaniards on a visit to the interior. For nine days they 
were conducted from tovni to town, and feasted and almost 
idolized by the Indians, who regarded them as angelic beings, 



ALONZO DE OJEDA. 19 

performing their national dances and games, and chaunting 
their traditional ballads for their entertainment. 

The natives of this part were distinguished for the symme- 
try of their forms ; the females in particular appeared to the 
Spaniards to surpass aU others that they had yet beheld in the 
new world for gi-ace and beauty ; neither did the men evince, 
in the least degree, that jealousy which prevailed in other 
parts of the coast ; but, on the contrary, permitted the most 
frank and intimate intei'course with their wives and daughters. 

By the time the Spaniards set out on their return to the ship, 
the whole country was aroused, pouring forth its population, 
male and female, to do them honour. Some bore them in Ht- 
ters or hammocks, that they might not be fatigued with the 
journey, and happ,y was the Indian who had the honour of 
bearing a Spaniard on his shoulders across a river. Others 
loaded themselves with the presents that had been bestowed on 
their guests, consisting of rich plumes, weapons of various 
kinds, and tropical birds and animals. In this way they re- 
turned in triumphant procession to the ships, the woods and 
shores resounding with their songs and shouts. 

Many of the Indians crowded into the boats that took 
the detachment to the ships; others put off in canoes, or 
swam from shore, so that in a httle while the vessels were 
thronged with upwards of a thousand wondering natives. 
While gazing and marvelling at the strange objects around 
them, Ojeda ordered the cannon to be discharged, at the sound 
of which, says Vespucci, the Indians " plimged into the water, 
like so many frogs from a bank." Perceiving, however, that 
it was done in harmless mirth, they returned on board, and 
passed the rest of the day in great festivity. The Spaniards 
brought away with them several of the beautiful and hospitable 
females from this place, one of whom, named by them Isabel, 
was much prized by Ojeda, and accompanied him in a subse- 
quent voyage.* 



*Navarette, t. iii., p 8. Idem, pp. 107, 108. 

It is worthy of particular mention that Ojeda, in his report of his voyage to the 
Sovereigns, informed them of his having met with English voj^agers in the vicinity 
of Coquibacoa, and that the Spanish government attached such importance to his 
information as to take measures to prevent any intrusion into those parts by the 
English. It is singular th^it no record should exist of this early and extensive ex- 
pedition of Ji;nglish navigators If it was undertaken in the service of the Crown, 
some document might be found concerning it among the archives of the reign of 
Henry VII. The English had already discovered the continent of North America. 
This had been done in 1497, by John Cabot, a Venetian, accompanied by his son 



20 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

CHAPTER V. 

PROSECUTION OP THE VOYAGE- -RE""'TIN TO SPAIN. 

Leaving the friendly port of Coquibacoa, Ojeda continued 
uiong the western shores of the guK of A^cneziT^la, and standing 
out to sea, and doubling Cape ilaracaibo, he pursued liis 
coasting voyage from port to port, and promontory to promon- 
tory, of this unknown continent, until he reached that long 
stretching headland called Cape de la Vela. 'here, tne state 
of his vessels, and perhaps the disappointment of his hopes at 
not meeting with abimdant sources of immediate wealth, 
induced him to abandon aU further voyaging along the coast, 
and, changing his course, he stood across the Caribbean Sea for 
Hispaniola. The tenor of his commission forbade his visiting 
that island; but Ojeda was not a man to stand upon trifles 
when his interest or inclination prompted the contrary. He 
tiiisted to excuse the infraction of his orders by the alleged 
necessity of touching at the island to caulk and refit his ves- 
sels, and to procure provisions. His tnie object, however, is 
supposed to have been to cut dyewood, which abounds in the 
western part of Hispaniola. 

He accordingly anchored at Yaquimo in September, and 
landed with a lai'ge party of his men. Columbus at that time 
held command of the island, and, hearing of this unlicensed 
intrusion, despatched Francesco Roldan, the quondam rebel, 
to call Ojeda to account. The contest of stratagem and man- 
agement that toolc place between these two adroit and daring 
adventurers has already been detailed in the History of Colum- 
bus. Roldan was eventually successful, and Ojeda, being 
obliged to leave Hispaniola, resumed his rambling voyage, vis- 
iting various islands, from whence he carried off numbers of 
the natives. He at length arrived at Cadiz, in Jime, 1500, 
with his ships crowded with captives, whom he sold as slaves. 



Sebastian, who was born in Bristol. Tiiey sailed under a license of Henry VII., who j 
was to have a fifth of the profits of the voyage. On the 34th June they dis- J 
covered Newfoundland, and afterwards coasted the continent quite to Florida, j 
bringingf back to England a valuable cargo and several of the natives. This was the ' 
first discover;! of the mainland of America. The success of this expedition may 
have prompted the one which Ojeda encountered in the neighbourliood of Coqui- 
bacoa. 



ALONZO BE OJEDA. 21 

So meagre, however, was the result of this expedition, that we 
are told, when aU the expenses were deducted, but five hun- 
dred ducats remained to be divided between fifty-five adven- 
turers. What made this result the more mortifying was, that 
a petty armament which had sailed sometime after that of 
Ojeda, had returned two months before him, rich with the 
spoils of the New World. A brief account of this latter expe- 
dition is necessary to connect this series of minor discoveries- 



22 SPAmJSU VOYAGES OF DISCO VEET. 



PEDRO ALONZO NINO* AND CHRISTOVAL 
GUERRA.-(1499.) 



The permission granted by Bishop Fonseca to Alonzo de 
Ojeda, to undei'take a private expedition to the NeAv World, 
roused the emulation of others of the followers of Columbus. 
Among these was Pedro Alonzo Nino, a hardy seaman, native 
of Moguer in the vicinity of Palos, who had sailed with Colmn- 
bus, as a pilot, in his first voyage, and also in his cruisings 
along the coasts of Cuba and Paria.f He soon obtained from 
the bishop a similar hcense to that given to Ojeda, and, like 
the latter, sought for some monied confederate among the 
rich merchants of Seville. One of these, named Luis Guerra, 
ottered to fit out a caravel for the expedition; but on condition 
that his brother, Chi'istoval Guen-a, should have the command. 
The poverty of Niiio compelled him to assent to the stipula- 
tions of the man of wealth, and he sailed as subaltern in his 
own enterprise; but his nautical skill and knowledge soon 
gained him the ascendancy, he became virtually the captain, 
and ultimately enjoyed the whole credit of the voyage. 

The bark of these two adventurers was but of fifty tons bur- 
then, and the crew thirty -three souls all told. With this slen- 
der armament they undertook to traverse unknown and dan- 
gerous seas, and to explore the barbarous shores of that vast 
continent recently discovered by Colmnbus ; — such was the 
daring spirit of the Spanish voyagers of those days. 

It was about the beginning of June, 1499, and but a few days 
after the departure of Ojeda, that they put to sea. They 
sailed from the little port of Palos, the original cradle of Amer- 
ican discovery, whose brave and skilful mariners long contin- 
ued foremost in all entei*prises to the New World. Being 
guided by the chart of Columbus, they followed his route, and 



* Pronounced Ninyo. The Si in Spanish is ahvay.s pronounced as if followed by 
the letter y. 
+ Testimony of Bastldes in the law-suit of Diego Columbus. 



PEDRO ALONZO NINO AND CHRI8T0VAL OUERRA. 23 

reached tlie soutliern continent, a little beyond Paria, about 
fifteen days after the same coast had been visited by Ojeda. 

They then proceeded to the gulf of Paria, where they landed 
to cut dye-wood, and were amicably entertained by the 
natives. Shortly after, sallying from the gulf by the Boca del 
Drago, they encoimtered eighteen canoes of Caribs, the pirate- 
rovers of these seas and the terror of the bordering lands. 
This savage armada, instead of boing daunted as usual by the 
sight of a European ship with swelling sails, resembling some 
winged monster of the deep, considered it only as an object of 
plunder or hostility, and assailed it with showers of arrows. 
The sudden burst of artillery, however, from the sides of the 
caravel and the havoc made among the Caribs by this seeming 
thunder, struck them with dismay and they fled in all du-ec- 
ti ons. The Spaniards succeeded in capturing one of the canoes, 
with one of the warriors who had manned it. In the bottom 
of the canoe lay an Indian prisoner bound hand and foot. On 
being hberated, he informed the Spaniards by signs that these 
Caribs had been on a marauding expedition along the neigh- 
bouring coasts, shutting themselves up at night in a stockade 
which they carried with them, and issuing forth by day to 
plunder the villages and to make captives. He had been 
one of seven prisoners. His companions had been devoured 
before his eyes at the cannibal banquets of these savages, and 
he had been awaitmg the same miserable fate. Honest Kif.o 
and his confederates were so indignant at this recital, that, 
receiving it as established fact, they performed what they con- 
sidered an act of equitable justice, by abandoning the Carib to 
the discretion of his late captive. The latter feU upon the 
defenceless warrior with fist and foot and cudgel ; nor did his 
rage subside even after the breath had been mauled out of his 
victim, but, tearing the grim head from the body, he placed it 
on a pole as a trophy of his vengeance. 

Niiio and his fellow-adventiu'ers now steered for the island 
of Margarita, where they obtained a considerable quantity of 
pearls by barter. They afterwards skirted the opposite coast 
of Cumana, trading cautiously and shrewdly from iDort to port, 
sometimes remaining on board of their Httle bark, and obliging 
the savages to come off to them, when the latter appeared too 
nimaerous, at other times venturing on shore, and even into 
the interior. They were invariably treated with amity by the 
natives, who were perfectly naked, excepting that they were 
adorned with necklaces and bracelets of pearls. These they 



24 SPAmSJI VOFAGES OF DISCOVERY. 

sometimes gave freely to the Spaniards, at other times they 
exchanged them for glass beads and other tiinkets, and 
smiled at the folly of the strangers in making such silly bar- 
gains.* 

The Spaniards wei-e struck with the grandeur and density 
of the forests along this coast, for in these regions of heat 
and moisture, vegetation appears in its utmost magnificence. 
They heard also the cries and roarings of wild and unknown 
animals in the woodlands, which, however, appeared not to be 
very dangerous, as the Indians went about the forest armed 
solely with bows and arrows. From meeting with deer and 
rabbits, they were convinced that that was a part of Terra 
Firnia, not having fovind any animals of the kind on the 
islands.! 

Nino and Guerra were so well pleased with the hospitality 
of the natives of Cumana, and with the profitable traffic for 
jjcarls, by which they obtained many of great size and beauty, 
that they remained upwards of three months on the coast. 

They then proceeded westward to a country called Cauchieto, 
trading as usual for pearls, and for the inferior kind of gold 
called guanin. At length they arrived at a place where there 
was a kind of fortress protecting a number of houses and 
gardens situated on a river, the whole forming to the eyes of 
the Spaniards one of the most dehcious abodes imaginable. 
They were about to land and enjoy the pleasures of this 
fancied paradise, when they beheld upwards of a thousand 
Indians, armed with bows and arrows and war-clubs, prepar- 
ing to give them a wann reception; having been probably 
incensed by the recent visit of Ojeda. As Nino and Guerra 
had not the fighting pi'opensiiies of Ojeda, and were in quest 
of profit rather than renown, having, moreover, in all proba- 
bihty, the fear of the rich merchant of Seville before their 
eyes, they prudently abstained from landing, and, abandoning 
this hostile coast, returned forthwith to Cumana to resume 
their trade for pearls. They soon amassed a great number, 
many of which were equal in size and beauty to the most cele- 
brated of the East, though they had been injured in boring 
from a want of proper implements. 

Satisfied with their success they now set sail for Spain, and 
piloted their httl<^ bark safely to Bayonne in Gallicia, where 
they anchored about the middle of April, 1500, nearly two 

* LasCasas. Hist. Iiul., lib. i. c. ITl. t Navnrreto, t. iii. p 14. 



PEDRO ALONZO m:^0 AND CHRISTOVAL QUERUA. 25 

montlis before the arrival of Ojeda and his associates, La Cosa 
and Vespucci.* 

The most successful voyagers to the New World were doomed 
to trouble from their very success. The ample amount of 
pearls paid to the treasury, as the royal portion of the profits 
of this expedition, drew suspicion instead of favour upon the 
two adventurers. They were accused of having concealed a 
great part of the pearls collected by them, thus defrauding 
their conapanions and the crown. Pedro Alonzo Niiio was 
actually thrown into prison on this accusation, but, nothing 
being proved against him, was eventually set free, and enjoyed 
the enviable reputation of having performed the richest 
voyage that had yet been made to the New World, f 

* Peter Martyr. Other historians give a different date for their arrival. Herrera 
saj's Feb. 6. 
+ Navarrete. Collect. ^ iiL p. '^t. ?Serrera, d. i. 1. iv. c. v. 



20 SPAmSII VOYAGES OF DlSC0Vl£li7. 



VICENTE YANEZ PINZON.-(1499). 



Among the maritime adventurers of renown who were 
roused to action by the hcenses granted for private expeditions 
ot discovery, we find conspicuous the name of Vicente Yaiiez 
Pinzon, of Palos, one of the three brave brothers who aided 
Columbus in his first voyage and risked life and fortune with 
him m his doubtful and perilous enterprise. 

Of Martin Alonzo Pinzon, the eldest and most important of 
these three brothers, particular mention has been made in the 
History of Columbus, and of the unfoi-tunate error in conduct 
which severed him from the admiral, brought on him the dis- 
pleasure of the sovereigns, and probably contributed to his 
premature and melancholy death. 

Whatever cloud of disgrace may have overshadoAved his 
family, it was but temporary. The death of Martm Alonzo, 
as usual, atoned for his faults, and his good deeds lived after 
him. The merits and services of himself and his brothers 
were acknowledged, and the siirvivore of the family were 
restored to royal confidence. A feeling of jealous hostility 
prevented them from taking a part in the subsequent voyages 
of Columbus ; but the moment the door was thrown open for 
individual enterprise, they pressed forward for permission to 
engage in it at their own risk and expense — and it was readily 
granted. In fact, their supposed hostility to Columbus was 
one of the surest recommendations they could have to the 
favour of the Bishop Fonseca, by whom the lic;ense was issued 
for their expedition. 

Vicente Yaiiez Pinzon was the leader of this new enterprise, 
and he was accompanied by two nephews named Arias Perez 
and Diego Fernandez, sons of his late brother, Martin Alonzo 
Pinzon. Several of his sailors had sailed with Columbus in 
his recent voyage to Paria, as had also his three i)rincipal 
pilots, Juan Quintero, Juan de Umbria, and Juan de Jerez. 
Thus these minor voyages seemed all to emanate from the 



VICENTE ya:Bi£Z pinzon. 27 

great pxpeditions of Columbus, and to aim at realizing the 
ideas and speculations contained in the papers transmitted by 
him to Spain. 

The armament consisted of four caravels, and was fitted out 
at the port of Palos. The funds of Vicente Yafiez were com- 
pletely exhausted before he had fitted out his little squadron ; 
he was obliged, therefore, to purchase on credit the sea-stores 
and articles of trafiic necessary for the enterprise. The mer- 
chants of Palos seemed to have known how to profit by the 
careless nature of sailors and the sanguine spirit of dis- 
coverers. In their bargains they charged honest Pinzon 
eighty and a hundred per cent, above the market value of 
their merchandise, and in the hurry and urgency of the 
moment he was obhged to submit to the iinposition.* 

The squadron put to sea in the beginning of December, 1499, 
and, after passing the Canary and Cape de Verde Islands, stood 
to the south-west. Having sailed about seven hundred leagues, 
they crossed the equator and lost sight of the north star. 
They had scarcely passed the equinoctial line when they 
encountered a terrible tempest, which had well-nigh swallowed 
up their slender barks. The storm passed away and the 
firmament was again s;erene ; but the mariners remained tossing 
about in confusion, dismayed by the turbulence of the waves 
and the strange aspect of the heavens. They looked in vain to 
the south for some polar star by wlaich to shape their course, 
and fancied that some swelling prominence of the globe con- 
cealed it from their view. They knew nothing as yet of the 
firmament of tliat hemisphere, nor of that beautiful constclla- 
\ ion, the southern cross, but expected to find a guiding star at 
the opposite pole, similar to the cynosure of the north. 

Pinzon, however, who was of an intrepid spirit, pursued his 
course resolutely to the west, and after sailmg about two hun- 
dred and forty leagues, and being in the eighth degree of 
southern latitude, he beheld land afar off on the 28th of 
January, to which he gave the name of Santa Maria de la 
Consolacion, from the sight of it having consoled him in the 
midst of doubts and perplexities. It is now called Cape St. 
Augustine, and forms the most prominent part of the immense 
empire of Brazil. 

The sea was turbid and discoloured as in rivers, and on 



* Navarrete, vol. iii. See Doc. No. 7, where Vincente Yanez Pinzou petitions for 
'ledress. 



28 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

sounding they had sixteen fathoms of water. Pinzon landed, 
accompanied by a notary and witnesses, and took formal pos- 
session of the territory for the Castihan crown ; no one appear- 
ed to dispute his pretensions, but he obsei'ved the print of 
footsteps on the beach which seemed of gigantic size. 

At night there were fires hghted upon a neighbouring part 
of the coast, which induced Pinzon on the following morning 
to send forty men well armed to the spot. A band of Indians, 
of about equal number, sallied forth to encounter them, armed 
with bows and arrows, and seemingly of extraordinary stature. 
A still greater number were seen in the distance hastening to 
the support of their companions. The Indians arrayed them- 
selves for combat, and the two parties remained for a short 
time eyeing each other with mutual ciu*iosity and distrust. 
The Spaniards now displayed looking-glasses, beads, and other 
trinkets, and jingled strings of liawks' bells, in general so capti- 
vating to an Indian ear ; but the haughty savages treated aU 
their overtures with contempt, regarding these offerings care- 
lessly for a short time, and then stalking off with stoic gi*avity. 
They were ferocious of feature, and apparently warlike in dis- 
position, and are supposed to have been a wandering race of 
unusual size, who roamed about in the night, and were of the 
most fierce, untractable natui-e. By nightfall there was not an 
Indian to be seen in the neighbourhood. 

Discouraged hj the inhospitable character of the coast, Pin- 
zon made sail and stood to the north-west, until he came to the 
mouth of a river too shallow to receive his ships. Here he 
sent his boats on shore with a number of men well armed. 
They landed on the river banks, and beheld a multitude of 
naked Indians on a neighbouring hill. A single Spaniard armed 
simply with sword and buckler was sent to invite them to 
friendly intercourse. He approached them Avith signs of amity, 
and threw to them a hawk's bell. They replied to him Tvnth 
similar signs, and threw to him a smaM gilded wand. The 
soldier stooped to pick it up, Avhen suddenly a troop of sav- 
ages rushed down to seize him ; he threw himself immediately 
upon the defensive, with sword and target, and though but a 
small man, and far from i-obust, he handled his weapons with 
such dexterity and fierceness, that he kept the savages at bay, 
making a clear circle roimd him, and wounding several who 
attempted to break it. His unlooked-for prowess surprised 
and confounded his assailants, and gave time for his comrades 
to come to liis assistance. The Indians then made a general 



VICl'JNTE YANEZ PIIiZON. 29 

assault, with such a galling discharge of darts and arrows that 
almost immediately eight or ten Spaniards were slain, and 
many more wounded. The latter were compelled to i-etreat to 
their boats disputing every inch of ground. The Indians pur- 
sued them even into the water, surrounding the boats and 
seizing hold of the oars. The Spaniards made a desperate 
defence, thrusting many through with their lances, and cuttmg 
down and rippiag up others with their swords ; but such was 
the ^ferocity of the survivors, that they persisted in their at- 
tack until they overpowered the crew of one of the boats, and 
bore it off in triumph. With this they retired from the com- 
bat, and the Spaniards returned, defeated and disheartened, to 
theii' ships, having met with the roughest reception that the 
Europeans had yet experienced in the New World. 

Pinzon now stood forty leagues to the north-west, until he 
arrived in the neighbourhood of the equinoctial hne. Here 
he found the water of the sea so fresh that he was enabled to 
replenish his casks with it. Astonished at so singular a phe- 
nomenon he stood in for the land, and arrived among a number 
of fresh and verdant islands, inhabited by a gentle and hospi- 
table race of people, gaily painted, who came off to the shii>s 
with the most frank and fearless confidence. Pinzon soon 
found that these islands lay in the mouth of an immense river, 
more than thirty leagues in breadth, the water of which entered 
upwards of forty leagues into the sea before losing its sweet- 
ness. It was, in fact, the renowned Maranon, since known as 
the Orellana and the Amazon. While lying in the mouth of 
this river there was a sudden swelling of the stream, which, 
being opposed by the current of the sea, and straitened by the 
narrow channels of the islands, rose more than five fathoms, 
with mountain waves, and a tremendous noise, threatening 
the destruction of the ships. Pinzon extricated his Mttle 
squadron with great diflSculty from this perilous situation, 
and finding there was but little gold or any thing else of value 
to be found among the simple natives, he requited their hospi- 
tahty, in the mode too common among the early discoverers, 
by carrying off thirty -six of them captive. 

Having regained the sight of the polar star, Pinzon pursued 
Ms course along the coast, passing the mouths of the Oronoko, 
and entering the Gulf of Paria, where he landed and cut Bra 
zil-wood. Sallying forth by the Boca del Drago, he reached 
the island of Hispaniola about the 23d of June, from whence 
he sailed for the Bahamas. Here, in the month of JiUy, while 



30 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

at anchor, there came such a tremendous hurricane that two 
of the caravels were swallowed up with all their crews in the 
sight of their terrified companions ; a third parted her cables 
and was driven out to sea, while the fourth was so furiously- 
beaten by the tempest that the crew threw themselves into 
the boats and made for shore. Here they found a few naked 
Indians, who offered them no molestation; but, fearing that 
they might spi-ead the tidings of a handful of shipwrecked 
Spaniards being upon the coast, and thus bring the savages of 
the neighbouring islands upon them, a council of war was held 
whether it would not be a vnse precaution to put these Indians 
to death. Fortunately for the latter, the vessel which had 
been driven from her anchors returned and put an end to the 
alarm, and to the coimcil of war. The other caravel also rode 
out the storm iminjured, and the sea subsiding, the Spaniards 
returned on board, and made the best of their way to the 
Island of Hispaniola. Having repaired the damages sustained 
in the gale, they again made sad for Spain, and came to anchor 
in the river before Palos about the end of September. 

Thus ended one of the most chequered and disastrous voy- 
ages that had yet been made to the New World. Yaiiez Pinzon 
had lost two of his ships, and many of his men ; what made 
the loss of the latter more grievous was that they had been en- 
listed from among his neighbours, his friends, and relatives. 
In fact, the expeditions to the New Woi'ld must have realized 
the terrors and apprehensions of the people of Palos by filling 
that httlo community with widoAvs and orphans. When the 
rich merchants, who had sold goods to Pinzon, at a himdred 
per cent, advance, beheld him return in this sorry condition, 
with two shattered barks and a handful of poor tattered, 
weather-beaten seamen, they began to tremble for their 
money. No sooner, therefore, had he and his nephews de- 
])arted to Granada, to give an account of tbcir discoveries to 
the sovereigns, than the merchants seized upcm their caravels 
and cargoes, and began to sell them to repay themselves. Hon- 
est Pinzon immediately addressed a petition to the govern- 
ment, stating the imposition that had been practised upon 
him, and the danger he was in of imprisonment and utter ruin, 
should his creditors be allowed to sacrifice his goods at a pub- 
lic sale. He petitioned that they might be compelled to return 
the property thus seized, and that he might bo enabled to sell 
three hundred and fifty quintals of Brazil-wood, which he had 
biought back with him, and which would be sufficient to 



VICENTE YANEZ PINZOK 31 

satisfy the demands of his creditors. The sovereigns granted 
his prayer. They issued an order to the civil authorities of 
Palos to interfere in the matter, Avith all possible promptness 
and brevity, allowing no vexatious delay, and administering 
justice so impartially that neither of the parties should have 
cause to complain. 

Pinzon escaped from the fangs of his creditors, but, of 
course, must have suffered in purse from the expenses of the 
law ; which, in Spain, is apt to bury even a successful client 
under an overwhelming mountain of documents and writings. 
We infer this in respect to Pinzon from a royal order issued in 
the following year allowing him to export a quantity of grain, 
in consideration of the heavy losses he had sustained in his 
voyage of discovery. He did but share the usual lot of the 
Spanish discoverers, whose golden anticipations too frequently 
ended in penury; but he is distinguished from among the 
crowd of them by being the first European who crossed the 
Equinoctial Hue, on the western ocean, and by discovering 
the great kingdom of Brazil.* 



* On the 5th of September, 1501, a royal permission was given to Vicente Yanez 
Pinzon to colonize and govern the lands he had discovered, beginning a little nortli 
of the river Amazon, and extending to Cape St. Augustine. The object of the gov- 
ernment in this permission was to establish an outpost and a resolute commander 
on this southern frontier, that should checlc any intrusions the Portugese might 
make in consequence of the accidental discovery of a part of the coast of Brazil by 
Pedro Alvarez Cabral. in 1500. The subsequent arrangement of a partition line be- 
tween the two countries prevented the necessity of this precaution, and it does not 
appear that Vicente Yaiiez Pinzon made any second voyage to those parts. 

In 1506 he underiook an expedition in company with Juan Diaz de Soils, a native 
of Lebrija, the object of which was to endeavour to find the strait or passage sup- 
po.sed by Columbus to lead from the Atlantic to a southern ocean. It was neces- 
sarily without success, as was also another voyage made by them, for the same 
purpose, in 1.508. As no such passage e.tists, no blame could attach to those able 
navi^aors for being foiled in the object of their search. 

In consequence of the distinguished merits and services of the Pinzon family they 
were raised, by the emperor Charles V., to the dignity of a Hidalguia, or nobiUty, 
without any express title, and a coat of arms was granted them, on which wera 
emblazoned three caravels, with a hand at the stern pointing to an island covered 1 
with savages. This coat of arms is still maintained by the family, who have added 
to it the motto granted to Columbus, merely substituting the name of Pinzon for 
that of the Admiral, 

A Castile y a Leon, 
Nuevo Mundo dio Pinzon. 



32 SPAIfliill VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 



DIEGO DE LEPE AND EODRIGO DE BASTIDES. 

(1500.) 



Notwithstanding the hardships and disasters that had beset 
the voyages to the New World, and the penury in which their 
golden anticipations had too frequently terminated, adventur- 
ers contained to press forward, excited by fresh reports of 
newly -discovered regions, each of which, in its turn was repre- 
sented as the real land of promise. Scarcely had Vicente 
Yaiiez Pinzon departed on the voyage recently narrated, when 
his townsman, Diego de Lepe, hkerwise set sail with two 
vessels ivovn the busy little port of Palos on a like expedition. 
No particulars of importance are known of this voyage, 
excepting that Lepe doubled Cape St. Augustine, and beheld 
the southern continent stretching far to the southwest. On re- 
turning to Spain he drew a chart of the coast for the bishop 
Fonseca, and enjoyed the reputation, for upwards of ten years 
afterwards, of having extended his discoveries further south 
than any other voyager. 

Another contemporary adventurer to the New World was 
Rodrigo de Bastides, a wealthy notary of Triana, the suburb of 
Seville inhabited by the maritime part of its population. Be- 
ing sanctioned by the sovereigns, to whom he engaged to 
yield a fourth of his profits, he fitted out two caravels in Octo- 
ber, 1500, to go in quest of gold and pearls. 

Prudently distnisting his own judgment m nautical matters, 
this adventurous notary associated with him the veteran pilot 
Juan de la Cosa, the same hardy Biscayan who had sailed 
with Columbus and Ojeda. A general outline of their voyage 
has already been given in the life of Columbus ; it extended the 
discoveries of the coast of Terra Firma from Cape de la Vela, 
Avhore Ojeda had left off, quite to the port of Nombre de Dios. 

Bastides distinguished himself from the mass of discoverers 
by his kind treatment of the natives, and Juan de la Cosa by 
his sound discretion and his able seamanship. Their voyage 



DIEGO DE LEPE AND RODBIGO DE BASTIDES. 33 

had been extremely successful, and they had collected, by 
barter, a great amoimt of gold and pearls, when their prosper- 
ous career was checked by an unlooked-for evil. Their vessels, 
to their surprise, became leaky in every part, and they discov- 
ered, to their dismay, that the bottoms were pierced in innum- 
erable places by the broma, or worm which abounds in the 
waters of the torrid zone, but of which they, as yet, had 
scarcely any knowledge. It was with great difficulty they 
could keep afloat until they reached a small islet on the coast 
of Hispaniola. Here they repaired their ships as well as they 
were able, and again put to sea to retiu-n to Cadiz. A succes- 
sion of gales drove them back to port ; the ravages of the 
worms continued ; the leaks broke out afresh ; they landed the 
most portable and precious part of their wealthy cargoes, and 
the vessels foundered with the remainder. Bastides lost, 
moreover, the arms and ammunition saved from the wi-eck, 
being obliged to destroy them lest they should faU into the 
hands of the Indians. 

Distributing his men into three bands, two of them headed 
by La Cosa and himseK, they set off for San Domingo by three 
several routes, as the country was not able to furnish provis- 
ions for so large a body. Each band was provided with a 
coffer stored with trinkets and other articles of Indian traffic, 
with which to buy provisions on the road. 

Francisco de BobadUla, the wrong-headed oppressor and 
superseder of Columbus, was at that time governor of San Do- 
mingo. The report reached him that a crew of adventurers had 
landed on the island, and were marching through the country 
in three bands, each provided with a coffer of gold, and carry- 
ing on illicit trade with the natives. The moment Bastides 
made his appearance, therefore, he was seized and thrown into 
prison, and an investigation commenced. In his defence he 
maintained that his only traffic with the natives was for the 
purpose of procuring provisions for his followers, or guides for 
his journey. It was determined, however, to send him to 
Spain for trial, with the written testimony and the other docu- 
ments of his examination. 

He was accordingly conveyed in the same fleet in which Bo- 
babilla embarked for Spain, and which experienced such an 
awful shipwreck in the sight of Columbus. The ship Eodrigo 
Bastides was one of the few that outlived the tempest: it 
arrived safe at Cadiz in September, 1502. Bastides was ulti- 
mately acquitted of the charges advanced against him. So 



34 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCO V Eli Y. 

lucrative had been his voyage, that, notwithstanding the losses 
sustained by the foundering of his vessels, he was enabled 
to pay a large sum to the crown as a fourth of his profits, 
and to retain a gi'cat amount for himself. In reward of his 
services and discoveries the sovereigns granted him an annual 
revenue for hfe, to arise from the proceeds of the province of 
Uraba, which he had discovered. An equal pension was hko- 
wise assigned to the hardy Juan de la Cosa, to result from the 
same territory, of which he was appointed Alguazil Mayor.* 
Such was the economical generosity of King Ferdinand, who 
rewarded the past toUs of his adventurous discoverers out 
of the expected produce of their future labours. 

♦ Navarrete. CoUec. t. iii. 



SECOND VOYAGE OF ALONZO BE OJEDA. 35 



SECOND VOYAGE OF ALONZO DE OJEDA. 

(1502.) 



The first voyage of Alonzo de Ojeda to the coast of Paria, 
and its meagre termination in June, 1500, has been related. 
He gained nothing in wealth by that expedition, but he added 
to his celebrity as a bold and skilful adventurer. His youthful 
fire, his sanguine and swelling spirit, and the wonderful stories 
that were told of his activity and prowess, made him extremely 
popular, so that his patron, the bishop Fonseca, found it an 
easy matter to secure for him the royal favour. In considera- 
tion of his past services and of others expected from him, a 
gi-ant was made to him of six leagues of land on the southern 
part of Hispaniola, and the government of the province of 
Coquibacoa Avhich he had discovered. He was, furthermore, 
authorized to fit out any number of ships, not exceeding ten, 
at his own expense, and to prosecute the discovery of the 
coast of Terra Firma. He was not to touch or traffic on the 
pearl coast of Paria ; extending as far as a bay in the vicinity 
of the island of Margarita. Beyond this he had a right to 
trade in all kinds of merchandise, whether of pearls, jewels, 
metals, or precious stones ; pajdng one-fifth of the profits to 
the crown, and abstaining from making slaves of the Indians 
without a special license from the sovereigns. He was to col- 
onize Coquibacoa, and, as a recompense, was to enjoy one-half 
of the proceeds of his territory, provided the half did not 
exceed 300,000 maravedies: aU beyond that amount was to go 
to the crown. 

A principal reason, however, for granting this government 
and those privileges to Ojeda, was that, in his previous voyage, 
he had met with Enghsh adventurers on a voyage of discovery 
in the neighbourhood of Coquibacoa, at which the jealousy of 
the sovereigns had taken the alarm. They were anxious, 
therefore, to estabhsh a resolute and fighting commander like 
Ojeda upon this outpost, and they instructed him to set up the 



36 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY. 

arms of Castile and Leon in every place he visited, as r signal 
of discovery and possession, and to put a stop to the intrusions 
of the English.* 

With this commission in his pocket, and the government of 
an Indian territory in the perspective, Ojeda soon found asso- 
ciates to aid him in fitting out an armament. These were 
Juan de Vergara, a servant of a rich canon of the cathedral cf 
Seville, and Garcia de Campos, commonly called Ocampo. 
They made a contract of partnership to last for two years, 
according to wliich the expenses and profits of the expedition, 
and of the government of Coquibacoa, were to be shared 
equally between them. The purses of the confederates were 
not ample enough to afford ten ships, but they fitted out four. 
1st, The Santa Maria de la Antigua, conmianded by Garcia del 
Campo; 2d, The Santa Maria de la Granada, commanded by 
Juan de Vergara; 3d, The Caravel Magdalena, commanded by 
Pedro de Ojeda, nephew to Alonzo; and 4th, The Caravel 
Santa Ana, commanded by Hernando de Guevara. The 
whole was under the command of Alonzo de Ojeda. The 
expedition set sail in 1502, touched at the Canaries, according 
to custom, to take in provisions, and th6n proceeded westwai'd 
for the shores of the New Woi'ld. 

After traversing the Gulf of Paria, and before reaching the 
Island of Margarita, the Caravel Santa Ana, commanded by 
Hernando de Guevara, was separated from them, and for sev- 
ei-al days the ships were mutually seeking each other, in these 
silent and trackless seas. After they were all reunited they 
found their provisions growing scanty ; they landed therefore 
at a part of the coast called Cumana by the natives, but to 
which, from its beauty and fertility, Ojeda gave the name of 
Valfermoso. While foraging here for their immediate sup- 
plies, the idea occurred to Ojeda that he shoidd want furniture 
and utensils of all kinds for his proposed colony, and that it 
would be better to pillage them from a country where he was 
a mere transient visitor, than to wrest them from his neigh- 
bours in the territory where he was to set up his govermnent. 
His companions were struck with the policy, if not the justice, 
of tills idea, and they all set to work to carry it into execution. 
Dispersing themselves, therefore, in ambush in various direc- 
tions, they at a concerted signal rushed forth from their con- 
cealment, and set upon the natives. Ojeda had issued orders 

♦ Navarrete. t. iti , (.locmnent x. 



SJWOjyi) VOYAGE OF ALONZO BE OJEDA. 37 

to do as little injuiy and damage as possible, and on no ac- 
count to destroy the habitations of the Indians. His followers, 
however, in their great zeal, transcended his orders. Seven or 
eight Indians were kUled and many wounded in the skirmish 
which took place, and a number of their cabins were wrapped 
in flames. A great quantity of hammocks, of cotton, and of 
utensils of various kinds, fell into the hands of the conquerors ; 
they also captured several female Indians, some of whom were 
ransomed with the kind of gold called guania; some were 
retained by Vergara for himself and his friend Ocampo ; others 
were distributed among the crews ; the rest, probably the old 
and ugly, were set at liberty. As to Ojeda, he reserved noth- 
ing for himself of the spoil excepting a single hanmiock. 

The ransom paid by the poor Indians for some of their effects 
and some of theii* women, yielded the Spaniards a trifling 
quantity of gold, but they found the place destitute of pro- 
visions, and Ojeda was obliged to despatch Vergara in a cara- 
vel to the island of Jamaica to forage for supplies, with 
instructions to rejoin him at Maracaibo or Cape de la Vela. 

Ojeda at length arrived a,t Coquibacoa, at the port destined 
for his seat of government. He found the country, however, 
so poor and sterile, that he proceeded along the coast to a bay 
which he named Santa Cruz, but which is supposed to be the 
same at present called Bahia Honda, where he foimd a Span- 
iard who had been left in the province of Citarma by Bastides 
in his late voyage about thirteen months before, and had re- 
mained ever since among the Indians, so that he had acquired 
their language. 

Ojeda determined to form his settlement at this place ; but 
the natives seemed disposed to defend their territory, for, the 
moment a party landed to procure water, they were assailed 
by a galling shower of arrows, and driven back to the ships. 
Upon this Ojeda landed with all his force, and struck such 
terror into the Indians, that they came forward with signs of 
amity, and brought a considerable quantity of gold as a peace- 
offering, which was graciously accepted. 

Ojeda, with the concurrence of his associates, now set to 
work to establish a settlement, ciitting down trees, and com- 
mencing a fortress. They had scarce begun, when they were 
attacked by a neighbouring cacique, but Ojeda sallied forth 
upon him with such intrepidity and effect as not merely to de- 
feat, but to drive him from the neighbourhood. He then pro- 
ceeded quietly to finish his fortress, which was defended by 



38 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DnUOVERT. 

lombards, and contained the magazine i »f provisions and the 
treasure amassed in the expedition, 'ihe provisions were 
dealt out twice a day, under the inspect on of proper officers; 
the treasure gained by barter, by ransor i, or by plunder, was 
deposited in a strong box secured by two locfts, one key being 
kept by the royal supervisor, the other bj Ocampo. 

In the mean time provisions became scarce. The Indians 
never appeared in the neighbourhood of [lie fortress, except to 
harass it with repeated though ineffectual assaults. Vergara 
did not appear with the expected suppMes from Jamaica, and a 
caravel was despatched in search of him. The people, worn 
out with labour and privations of various kinds, and dis- 
gusted with the situation of a settlement, which was in a poor 
and unhealthy country, gi*ew discontented and factious. They 
began to fear that they shotdd lose the means of departing, as 
then* vessels were in danger of being destroyed by the broma 
or worms. Ojeda led them forth repeatedly upon foraging 
parties about the adjacent country, and collected some pro- 
visions and booty in the Indian villages. The provisions he 
deposited in the magazine, part of the spoils he divided among 
liis followers, and the gold he locked up in the strong box, tho 
keys of which he took possession of, to the great displeasure of 
the supei-visor and his associate Ocampo. The murmure of tho 
people grew loud as then- sufferings increased. They insinu- 
ated that Ojeda had no authority over this part of the coast, 
having passed the boundaries of his government, and formed 
his settlement in the country discovered by Bastides. By tho 
time Vergara arrived from Jamaica, the factions of this petty 
colony had risen to an alarming height. Ocampo had a per- 
sonal enmity to the governor arising probably from some feud 
about the strong box; being a particular friend of Vergara, h^ 
held a private conference with him, and laid a plan to entran 
the doughty Ojeda. In pursuance of this the latter was in- 
vited on board of the caravel of Vergara to see the provisions 
he had brought from Jamaica, but no sooner was he on board 
than they charged him with having transgressed the limits of 
his government, with having provoked the hostility of tho 
Indians, and needlessly sacrificed the lives of his followers, 
and above all, with having taking possession of the strong box, 
in contempt of the authority of the royal supervisor, and with 
the intention of appropriating to himself all the gains of the 
enterprise; they informed him, therefore, of their intention to 
convey him a prisoner to Hispaniola, to answer ro the Gov- 



seco:nd voyage of alonzo be OJEDA. 39 

ernor for his offences. Ojeda finding himself thus entrapped, 
proposed to Vergara and Ocampo that they should return to 
Spaia with such of the crews as chose to accompany them, 
leaving liim with the remainder to prosecute his enterprise. 
The two recreant partners at first consented, for they were 
disgusted with the enterprise, which offered httle profit and 
severe hardships. They agreed to leave Ojeda the smallest of 
the caravels, with a thu-d of the provisions and of their gains, 
and to build a row boat for him. They actually began to 
labour upon the boat. Before ten days had elapsed, however, 
they repented of the ai'rangement, the ship-carpenters were 
ni, there were no caulkers, and moreover, they recollected that 
as Ojeda, according to their representations, was a defaulter to 
the crown, they would be hable as his sureties, should they re- 
turn to Spain without him. They concluded, therefore, that 
the wisest plan was to give him nothiag, but to carry him off 
prisoner. 

When Ojeda learned the determination of his wary partners, 
he attempted to make his escape and get off to St. Domingo, 
but he was seized, thrown in irons, and conveyed on board of 
the caravel. The two partners then set sail from Santa Cruz, 
bearing off the whole commimity, its captive governor, and the 
litigated strong box. 

They put to sea about the beginning of September, and 
arrived at the western part of the island of Hispaniola. While 
at anchor within a stone's throw of the land, Ojeda, con- 
fident in his strength and skill as a swimmer, let himself 
quietly slide do-\vn the side of the ship into the water during 
the night, and attempted to swim for the shore. His arms 
were free, but his feet were shackled, and the weight of his 
irsns threatened to sink him. He was obliged to shout for 
help ; a boat was sent from the vessel to his rehef , and the im- 
fortunate governor was brought back half drowned to his un- 
relenting partners.* 

The latter now landed and delivered their prisoner into the 
hands of Gallego, the commander of the place, to be put at the 
disposal of the governor of the island. In the mean time the 
strong box, which appears to have been at the bottom of all 
these feuds, remained in the possession of Vergara and Ocam- 
po, who, Ojeda says, took from it whatever they thought 
proper, without regard to the royal dues or the consent of the 

* Hist. Gen. de Viages. Hcrrera, Hist. Ind. 



40 iSPANISn VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

royal supervisor. They were all together, prisoner and ac- 
cusers, in tlie city of San Domingo, about the end of Septem- 
ber 1502, when the chief judge of the island, after hearing 
both parties, gave a verdict against Ojeda that stripped him 
of all his effects, and brought him into debt to the crown for 
the royal proportion of the profits of the voyage. Ojeda ap- 
pealed to the sovereign, and, after some time, was honoiu'- 
ably acqmtted, by the royal council, from all the charges, and 
a mandate was issued in 1503, ordering a restitution of his 
property. It appears, however, that the costs of justice, 
or rather of the law, consumed his share of the treasure of 
the strong box, and that a roj'al order was necessary to libe- 
rate him from the hands of the governor; so that, hke too 
many other htigants, he finally emerged from the labyrinths 
of the law a triumphant chent, but a ruined man. 



THIRD VOYAGE OF ALONZO DE OJEDA. 41 



THIRD VOYAGE OF ALONZO DE OJEDA. 



CHAPTER I. 



OJEDA APPLIES FOR A COMMAND— HAS A RIVAL CANDIDATE IN 
DIEGO DE NICUESA— HIS SUCCESS. 

For several years after his ruinous, though successful law- 
suit, we lose all traces of Alonzo de Ojeda, excepting that we 
are told he made another voyage to the vicinity of Coquibacoa, 
in 1505. No record remains of this expedition, which seems to 
have been equally unprofitable with the preceding, for we find 
him, in 1508, in the island of Hispaniola, as poor in purse, 
though as proud in spirit, as ever. In fact, however fortune 
might have favoured him, he had a heedless, squandering dis- 
position that would always have kept hira poor. 

About this tune the cupidity of King Ferdinand was greatly 
excited by the accounts which had been given by Columbus, of 
the gold mines of Veragua, in which the admiral fancied he 
had discovered the Aurea Chersonesus of the ancients, from 
whence Eang Solomon procured the gold used in building the 
temple of Jerusalem. Subsequent voyagers had corroborated 
the opinion of Columbus as to the general riches of the coast 
of Terra Firma ; King Ferdinand resolved, therefore, to found 
regular colonies along that coast and to place the whole under 
some capable commander. A project of the kind had been 
conceived by Columbus, when he discovered that region in the 
course of his last voyage, and the reader may remember the 
disasters experienced by his brother Don Bartholomew ai.d 
himself, in endeavouring to establish a colony on the hostile 
shores of Veragua. The admiral being dead, the person who 
should naturally have presented himself to the mind of the 
sovereign for this particular service was Don Bartholomew, 
but the wary and selfish monarch knew the Adelantado to be 
as lofty in his terms as his late brother, and preferred to accom- 
plish his purposes by cheaper agents. He was unwilling, also. 



42 SPANISH rOYAOES OF DISCOVERT. 

to increase the consequence of a family, whose vast, but just, 
claims were already a cause of repining to his sordid and jeal- 
ous spirit. He looked round, therefore, among the crowd of 
adventiu-ere, who had sprmig up in the school of Columbus, 
for some individual who might be ready to serve him on more 
accommodating terms. Among those, considered by their 
friends as most fitted for this purpose, was Alonzo de Ojeda, for 
his roving voyages and dariixg exploits had made him famous 
among the voyagers ; and it was thought that an application 
on his part would be attended with success, for he was known 
to possess a staunch friend at court in the Bishop Fonseca. 
Unfortunately he was too far distant to urge liis suit to the 
bishop, and what was woi*se, he was destitute of money. At 
this juncture there happened to be at Hispaniola the veteran 
navigator and pdot, Juan de la Cosa, who was a Icind of Nestor 
in all nautical affairs.* The hardy Biscayan had saUed with 
Ojeda, and had conceived a great opinion of the courage and 
talents of the youthful adventurer. He had contrived, also, to 
fill his purse in the course of his cruising, and now, in the gen- 
erous spirit of a saUor, offered to aid Ojeda with it in the 
prosecution of his wishes. 

His offer was gladly accepted ; it was agreed that Juan de la 
Cosa should depart for Spain, to promote the appointment of 
Ojeda to the command of Terra Firma, and, in case of success, 
should fit out, with his own funds, the necessary armament. 

La Cosa departed on his embassy ; he called on the Bishop 
Fonseca, who, as had been expected, entered warmly into the 
views of his favourite, Ojeda, and recommended him to the 
ambitious and bigot king, as a man well fitted to promote his 
empire in the wilderness, and to dispense the blessings of Chris- 
tianity among the savages. 

The recommendation of the bishop was usually effectual in 
the affairs of the New World, and the opinion of the veteran 
de la Cosa had great weight even with the sovereign ; but a 

* Peter Martyr gives the following weighty testimony to the knowledge and slcill 
of this excellent seaman: — "Of the Spaniards, as many as thought themselves to 
have any knowledge of what pertained to measure the land and sea, drew cardes 
(charts) on parchment as concertiing these navigations. Of all others they most 
esteem them which Juan de la Cosa, the companion of Ojeda, and another pilot, 
calle<l Andres Morales, had set forth, and this as well for the great experience 
whicli both had, (to whom these tracks v;ere as well knoivn as the chambers of their 
own houses,) as also that they were thought to be cmitiiiiger in that part of cos- 
mography which teacbetb the description and measuring of the sea."— P. Martyr, 
Decad. ii. c. 10. 



THIRD VOYAGE OF ALONZO BE OJKDA. 43 

rival candidate to Ojeda had presented himself, and one who 
had the advantage of higher connexions and greater pecuniary 
means. This was Diego de Nicuesa, an accomplished courtier 
of noble bu-th, wlio had fllied the post of grand carver to Don 
Enrique Enriquez, uncle of the king. Nature, education, and 
habit seemed to have combined to form Nicuesa as a complete 
rival of Ojeda. Like hun he was small of stature, but remark- 
able for symmetry and compactness of form and for bodily 
strength and activity ; like him he was master at all kinds of 
weapons, and skilled, not merely ia feats of agility but in those 
gi'aceful and chivalrous exercises, which the Spanish cavaliers 
of those days had inherited from the Moors ; being noted f 01 
his vigour and address iu the jousts or tUting matches after the 
Moresco fashion. Ojeda himself could not surpass him in feats 
of horsemanship, and particular mention is made of a favourite 
mare, which he could make caper and carried in strict cadence 
to the sound of a viol ; beside all this, he was versed in the 
legendary ballads or romances of his country, and was renowned 
as a capital performer on the guitar ! Such were the quaufica- 
tions of this candidate for a command in the wilderness, as 
enumerated by the reverend Bishop Las Casas. It is probable, 
however, that he had given evidence of qualities more adapted 
to the desired post ; having ah-eady been out to Hispaniola in 
the military train of the late Governor Ovando. 

Where merits were so singularly balanced as those of Ojeda 
and Nicuesa, it might have been difficult to decide ; King Ferdi- 
nand avoided the dilemma by favouring both of the candidates ; 
not mdeed by furnisliing them with ships and money, but by 
granting patents and dignities which cost nothing, and might 
bring rich returns. 

He divided that part of the continent which lies along the 
Isthmus of Darien into two provinces, the boundary line rim- 
ning through the Giilf of Uraba. The eastern part, extending 
to Cape de la Vela, was called New Andalusia, the goveiiimcnt 
of it given to Ojeda. The other, to the west, including Veragua, 
and reaching to Cape Gracias a Dies, was assigned to Nicuesa. 
The island of Jamaica was given to the two governors in com- 
mon, as a place from whence to draw supplies of provisions. 
Each of the governors was to erect two fortresses in liis dis- 
trict, and to enjoy for ten years the profits of all the mines he 
should discover, paying to the crown one-tenth part the first 
year, one-ninth the second, one-eighth the third, one-seventh 
the fourth, and one-fifth part in each of the remaining years. 



44 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

Juan de la Cosa, who had been indefatigable in promoting 
the suit of Ojeda, was appointed liis lieutenant in the govern- 
ment, with the post of Alguazil Mayor of the province. He 
immediately freighted a ship and two brigantines, in which he 
embarked with about two hundred men. It was a slender 
armament, but the purse of the honest voyager was not very 
deep, and that of Ojeda was empty. Nicuesa, having ampler 
means, armed four large vessels and two brigantines, fiu"nished 
them with abundant munitions and supphes, both for the voy- 
age and the projected colony, enlisted a much greater force, 
and set sail in gay and vaunting style, for the golden shores of J 
Veragua, the Aurea Chersonesus of his imagination. * 



CHAPTER II. 



FEUD BETWEET^ THE RIVAL GOVERNORS, OJEDA AND NICUESA — 
A CHALLENGE. — (1509.) 

The two rival armaments arrived at San Domingo about the 
same time. ISl icuesa had experienced what was doubtless con- 
sidered a pleasant little turn of fortune by the way. Touching 
at Santa Cruz, one of the Carribee islands, he had succeeded in 
captui-ing a hundred of the natives, whom he had borne off in 
his ships to be sold as slaves at Hispaniola. This was deemed 
justifiable in those days, even by the most sciaipulous divines, 
from the belief that the Caribs were all anthropophagi, or 
man-eaters ; fortunately the opinion of mankind, in this more 
enlightened age, makes but little difference in atrocity between 
the cannibal and the kidnapper. 

Alonzo de Ojeda welcomed with joy the arrival of his nau- 
tical friend and future heutenant in the government, the 
worthy Juan de la Cosa ; still he could not but feel some mor- 
tification at the inferiority of his armament to that of his rival 
Nicuesa, whose stately ships rode proudly at anchor in the 
harbour of Ban Domingo. He felt, too, that his means were 
inadequate to the establishment of his intended colony. 
Ojeda, however, was not long at a loss for pecuniary assist* 
ance. Like many free-spirited men, who are careless and 
squandering of their own purses, he had a facility at com- 
manding the purses of his neighbours. Among the motley 
population of San Domingo there was a lawyer of some abili- 



THIRD VOYAGE OF ALONZO DE OJEDA. 45 

ties, the Bachelor Martin Fernandez de Enciso, who had made 
two thousand castillanos by his pleading ;* for it would appear 
that the spirit of litigation was one of the first fruits of civilized 
life transplanted to the New World, and flourished surprisingly 
among the Spanish colonists. 

Alonzo de Ojeda became acquainted with the Bachelor, and 
finding him to be of a restless and speculative character, soon 
succeeded in inspiring him with a contempt for the duU but 
secure and profitable routine of his office in San Domingo, and 
imbuing him with his own passion for adventure. Above all, 
he dazzled him with the offer to make him Alcalde Mayor, or 
chief judge of the provincial government he was about to 
estabhsh in the wilderness. 

In an evil hour the aspiring Bachelor yielded to the tempta- 
tion, and agreed to invest aU his money in the entei*prise. It 
was agreed that Ojeda should depart with the armament which 
had arrived from Spain, while the Bachelor should remain at 
Hispaniola to beat up for recruits and provide supphes ; with 
these he was to embark in a ship purchased by himself, and 
proceed to join his high-mettled friend at the seat of his in- 
tended colony. Two rival governors, so well matched as 
Ojeda and Nicuesa, and both possessed of swelling spu'its, pent 
up in small but active bodies, could not remain long in a little 
place Hke San Domingo without some collision. The island of 
Jamaica, which had been assigned to them in common, fur- 
nished the first ground of contention ; the province of Darien 
furnished another, each pretending to include it within the 
Umits of his jurisdiction. Their disputes on these points ran 
so high that the whole place resounded with them. In talk- 
ing, however, Nicuesa had the advantage; having been 
brought up in the court, he was more pohshed and ceremoni- 
ous, had greater self-command, and probably perplexed his 
rival governor in argument. Ojeda was no great casuist, but 
he was an excellent swordsman, and always ready to fight his 
way through any question of right or dignity which he could 
not clearly argue with the tongue ; so he proposed to settle the 
dispute by single combat. Nicuesa, though equally brave, 
was more a man of the world, and saw the folly of such arbit- 
rament. Secretly smiling at the heat of his antagonist, he 
proposed, as a preliminary to the duel, and to furnish some- 
thing worth fighting for, that each should deposit five thou- 

* Kquivaleiit to 10,650 dollars of the present day. 



46 SPANISU VOYAGES OF DISCOVER F 

sand castillanos, to be the prize of the victor. This, as he 
foresaw, was a temporary check upon the fiery valour of his 
rival, who did not possess a pistole in his treasury, but prob- 
ably was too proud to confess it. 

It is not likely, however, that the impetuous spirit of Ojeda 
would long have remained in check, had not the discreet Juan 
de la Cosa interposed to calm it. It is interesting to notice the 
gi*eat ascendency possessed by this veteran navigator over his 
fiery associate. Juan de la Cosa was a man whose strong 
natural good sense had been quickened by long and hard 
experience; whose courage was above all question, but tem- 
pered by time and trial. He seems to have been personally 
attached to Ojeda, as veterans who have outUved the rash im- 
pulse of youthful valour are apt to love the fiery quahty in 
their younger associates. So long as he accompanied Ojeda in 
his enterprises, he stood by him as a Mentor in council, and a 
devoted partisan in danger. 

In the present instance the interference of this vetei*an of the 
seas had the most salutary effect ; he prevented the impending 
duel of the rival governoi'S, and persuaded them to agree that 
the river Darien should be the boundary line between their 
respective jurisdictions. 

The dispute relative to Jamaica was settled by the Admiral 
Don Diego Coliunbus himself. He had already felt aggrieved 
by the distribution of these governments by the king, without 
his consent or even knowledge, being contrary to the privileges 
which he inherited from his father, the discoverer. It was in 
vain to contend, however, when the matter was beyond his 
reach and involved in technical disputes. But as to the island 
of Jamaica, it in a manner lay at his own door, and he could 
not brook its being made a matter of gift to these brawling 
govemore. Without waiting the slow and imcertain coui'se of 
making remonstrances to the king, he took the affair, as a 
matter of plain right, into his own hands and ordered a^brave 
officer, Juan de Esquibel, the same who had subjugated the 
province of Higuey, to take possession of that island, with 
seventy men, and to hold it subject to his command. 

Ojeda did not hear of this arrangement until he was on the 
point of embarking to make sail. In the heat of the moment 
he loudly defied the power of the admiral, and swore that if he 
ever found Juan de Esquibel on the island of Jamaica he would 
strike off his head. The populace present heard this menace, 
and had too thorough an idea of the fiery and daring character 



I THIRD VOYAGE OF ALONZO DE OJEDA. 47 

of Ojcda to doubt that he would carry it into effect. Notwith- 
standing his bravado, however, Juan de Esquibel proceeded 
according to his orders to take possession of the island of 
Jamaica. 

The squadron of Nicuesa lingered for some time after the 
sailing of his rival. His courteous and engaging manners, 
aided by the rumour of great riches in the province of Vera- 
gua, where he iatended to found his colony, had drawn numer- 
ous volmateers to his standard, insomuch that he had to pur- 
chase another ship to convey them. 

Nicuesa was more of the courtier and the cavalier than the 
man of business, and had no skill in managing his pecuniary 
affairs. He had expended his funds with a free and lavish 
hand, and involved himself in debts which he had not the im- 
mediate means of paying. Many of his creditors knew that 
his expedition was regarded with an evil eye by the Admiral, 
Don Diego Columbus ; to gain favour with the latter, therefore, 
they threw all kinds of impediments in the way of Nicuesa. 
Never w?s an unfortunate gentleman more harassed and dis- 
tracted by duns and demands, one plucking at his skii'ts as 
soon as the other was satisfied. He succeeded, however, in 
getting all his forces embarked. He had seven hundred men, 
well chosen and well armed, together with six horses. He 
chose Lope de Olano to be his captain-general, a seemtagly 
impolitic appointment, as this Olano had been concerned with 
the notorious Roldan in his rebellion against Columbus. 

The squadron sailed out of the harbour and put to sea, ex- 
cepting one ship, which, with anchor a-trip and sails unfurled, 
waited to receive Nicuesa, who was detained on shore imtil 
the last moment by the perplexities which had been artfiilly 
multiphed around him. 

Just as he was on the point of stepping into his boat he 
was arrested by the harpies of the law, and carried before the 
Alcalde Mayor to answer a demand for five hundred ducats, 
which he was ordered to pay on the spot, or prepare to go to 
prison. 

This was a thunderstroke to the unfortunate cavalier. In 
vain he represented his utter incapacity to furnish such a siim 
at the moment ; in vain he represented the ruin that would 
accrue to himself and the vast injuiyto the public service, 
should he be prevented from joining his expedition. The Al- 
calde Mayor was inflexible, and Nicuesa was reduced to de- 
spair. At this critical moment relief came from a most unex- 



48 SrANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

pected quarter. The heart of a public notary was melted by 
his distress ! He stepped forward in court and declared that 
rather than see so gaUant a gentleman reduced to extreniity 
ho liimself would pay down the money. Nicuesa gazed at him 
with astonishment, and could scarcely believe his senses, but 
when he saw him actually pay off the debt, and found liimself 
suddenly released from this dreadful embarrassment, he cm- 
bi-acod his deliverer with teare of gratitude, and hastened with 
all speed to embark, lest some other legal spell should be laid 
upon his person. 



CHAPTER III. 



EXPLOITS AND DISASTERS OF OJEDA ON THE COAST OF CARTHA- 
GENA— FATE OF THE VETERAN JUAN DE LA COSA.— (1509.) 

It was on the 10th of November, 1509, that Alonzo de Ojeda, 
set sail from San Domingo with two ships, two brigantmes, 
and three hundred men. He took with him also twelve brood 
mares. Among the remarkable adventiu-ers who embarked 
with him was Francisco Pizarro, who was afterwards re- 
nowned as the conqueror of Peru.* Hernando Cortez had Hke- 
wise intended to sail in the expedition, but was prevented by 
an inflammation in one of his knees. 

Tlie voyage was speedy and prosperous, and they ai-rivcd late 
in the autumn in the harbour of Carthagena. The veteran 
Juan de la Cosa was well acquainted with this place, having 
sailed as pilot with Rodrigo de Bastides, at the time he discov- 
ered it in 1501. He warned Alonzo de Ojeda to be upon his 
guard, as the natives were a brave and warlike race, of Carib 

* Francisco PizaiTo was a native of Tnixillo in Estremadura. He was the ille- 
piiimate fruit of an amour between Gonsalvo Pizarro, a veteran captain of in- 
fantry, and a damsel in low life. His childhood was passed in provelling occu- 
pations incident to the liumhle condition of his mother, and he is said to have 
b"en a swinelu'rd. When he had snfflcieiitly increased in years and sfature lie en- 
listed as a soldier. His first camjiftipns may have been apainst the Moors in the 
war of Oranada. He certainly served in Italy under the banner of the Great Cap- 
tain, Gonsalvo of Cordova. His roving siiirit then induced him to join the bauds 
of adventurers to the New World. He was of ferocious courage, and, when en- 
gaged in any enterprise, possessed an obstinate perseverance that was neither to 
he deterred by danger, weakened by fatigue and hardship, or cliecked by repeated 
disappointment. After having conquered the great kingdom of Peru, he was as- 
t^issiuated, at an advanced age, in 1541, defending himself bravely to the last. 



THIRD VOYAGE OF ALONZO DE OJEDA. 49 

origin, far different from the soft and gentle inhabitants of the 
islands. They wielded great swords of palm-wood, defended 
themselves with osier targets, and dipped their arrows in the 
subtle poison. The women, as well as the men, mingled in bat- 
tle, being expei-t in drawing the bow and thi-owing a species of 
iance called the azagay. The warning was well tuned, for the 
Indians of these parts had been irritated by the misconduct of 
previous adventurers, and flew to arms on the first appearance 
of the ships. 

Juan de la Cosa now feared for the safety of the enterprise 
in which he had person, fortune, and official dignity at stake. 
He earnestly advised Ojeda to abandon this dangerous neigh- 
bourhood, and to commence a settlement in the gulf of Uraba, 
where the people were less ferocious, and did not use poisoned 
weapons. Ojeda was too proud of spirit to alter his plans 
through fear of a naked foe. It is thought, too, that he had 
no objection to a skirmish, being desirous of a pretext to make 
slaves to be sent to Hispaniola in discharge of the debts he 
had left unpaid.* He landed, therefore, with a considerable 
part of his force, and a number of friars, who had been sent 
out to convert the Indians. His faithful lieutenant, being un- 
able to keep him out of danger, stood by to second him. 

Ojeda advanced towards the savages, and ordered the friars 
to read aloud a certain formula which had recently been di- 
gested by profound jurists and divines in Spain. It began in 
stately form. "I, Alonzo de Ojeda, servant of the most liigh 
and mighty sovereigns of Castile and Leon, conquerore of bar- 
barous nations, their messenger and captain, do notify unto 
you, and make you know, in the best way I can, that God our 
Lord, one and eternal, created the heaven and the earth, and 
one man and one woman, from whom jon and we, and all the 
people of the earth proceeded, and are descendants, as well as 
those who shall come hereafter." The formula then went on 
to declare the fundamental principles of the Cathohc Faith; 
the supreme power given to St. Peter over the world and all 
the human race, and exercised by his representative the pope ; 
the donation made by a late pope of all this part of the world 
and all its inhabitants, to the Cathohc sovereigns of Castile; 
and the ready obedience which had already been paid by many 
of its lands and islands and people to tlie agents and represent 
atives of those sovei-eigns. It called upon those savages prcs^ 

*Las Casas. Hist. Ind. 1. ii. c. 57, MS 



60 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY. 

ent, therefore, to do the same, to acknowledge the truth of the 
Christian doctrine.^, tlie supremacy of the pope, and the sov- 
ereignty of the Cotholic King, but, in case of refusal, it de- 
nounced upon them all the horrors of war, the desolation of 
their dwellings, the seizure of their property, and the slavery 
of their wives and children. Such was the extraordinary doc- 
ument, which, from this time forward, was read by the Span- 
ish discoverers to the wondering savages of any newly-found 
country, as a prelude to sanctify the violence about to be in- 
fUcted on them.* 

When the friars had read this pious manifesto, Ojeda made 
signs of amity to the natives, and held up glittering presents ; 
they had already suffered, however, from the cruelties of the 
white men, and were not to be won by kindness. On the con- 
trary, they brandished their weapons, sounded their conchs, 
and prepared to make battle. 

Juan de la Cosa saw the rising choler of Ojeda, and knew his 
fiery impatience. He again entreated him to abandon these 
hostile shores, and reminded him of the venomous weapons of 
tlie enemy. It was all in vain: Ojeda confided blindly in the 
protection of the Virgin. Putting up, as usual, a short prayer 
to his patroness, he drew his weapon, braced his buckler, and 
charged furiously upon the savages. Juan de la Cosa followed 
as heartily as if the battle had been of his own seeking. The 
Indians were soon routed, a number killed, and several taken 
prisoners ; on their persons were found plates of gold, but of an 
inferior quality. Flushed by this triumph, Ojeda took several 
of the prisoners as guides, and pursued the flying enemy four 
leagues into the interior. He was folloAved, as usual, by his 
faithful lieutenant, the veteran La Cosa, continually remon- 
strating against his useless temerity, but hardily seconding 
him in the most hare-brained perils. Having penetrated fai' 
into the forest, they came to a strong-hold of the enemy, where 
a numerous force was ready to receive them, armed with clubs, 
lances, arrows, and bucklers. Ojeda led his men to the charge 
with the old Castilian war cry, "Santiago!" The savages soon 
took to flight. Eight of their bravest warriors threw them- 
selves into a cabin, and plied their bows and arrows so vigor- 
ously, that the Spaniards were kept at bay. Ojeda cried shame 
upon his followers to be daunted by eight naked men. Stung 



* The reader will And the complete form of this curious manifesto in the ap- 
pendix. 



THIRD VOTAOE OF ALONZO BE OJEDA. 51 

hy this reproach, an old Castilian soldier rushed through a 
shower of arrows, and forced the door of the cabin, but re- 
ceived a shaft through the heart, and fell dead on the thresh- 
old. Ojeda, fxirious at the sight, ordered fire to bo set to the 
combustible edifice ; in a moment it was in a blaze, and the 
eight warriors perished in the flames. 

Seventy Indians were made captive and sent to the ships, 
and Ojeda, regardless of the remonstrances of Juan de la Cosa, 
continued his rash pursuit of the fugitives through the forest. 
In the dusk of the evening they arrived at a village called 
Yurbaco ; the inhabitants of which had fled to the mountains 
with their wives and children and principal effects. The Span- 
iards, imagining that the Indians were completely terrified and 
dispersed, now roved in quest of booty among the deserted 
houses, which stood distant from each other, buried among the 
trees. While they were thus scattered, troops of savages 
rushed forth, with furious yells, from aU parts of the forest. 
The Spaniards endeavoured to gather together and support 
each other, but every little party Avas surrounded by a host of 
foes. They fought with desperate bravery, but for once their 
valour and their iron armour were of no avail ; they were over- 
whelmed by numbers, and sank beneath war-clubs and poi- 
soned arrows. 

Ojeda on the first alarm collected a few soldiers and en- 
sconced himself within a small enclosure, surrounded by pali- 
sades. Here he was closely besieged and gaUed by flights of 
arrows. He threw himself on his knees, covered himself with 
his buckler, and, being small and active, managed to protect 
himself from the deadly shower, but all his companions were 
slain by his side, some of them perishing in frightful agonies. 
At this fearful moment the veteran La Cosa, having heard of 
the peril of his conrnaander, arrived, with a few followers, to 
his assistance. Stationing himself at the gate of the pahsades, 
the brave Biscayan kept the savages at bay until most of his 
men were slain and he liimself was severely wounded. Just 
then Ojeda sprang forth hke a tiger into the midst of the 
enemy, dealing his blows on every side. La Cosa would have 
seconded him, but was crippled by his wounds. He took refuge 
with the remnant of his men in an Indian cabin ; the straw I'oof 
of which he aided them to throw off, lest the enemy should set 
it on fire. Here he defended himself until all his comrades, 
but one, were destroyed. The subtle poison of his wounds at 
length overpowered him, and he sank to the ground. Feeling 



f,2 ^7VliY/,b7/ VOYAGKS OF DISCOVERT. 

death at hand, ho called to his only surviving companion. 
" Brother, "Sciid he, "since God hath protected thee from harm, 
sally forth and fly, and if ever thou shouldst see Alonzo de 
Ojcda, teU him of my fate !" 

Tlius fell the hardy Juan dc la Ccsa, faithful and devoted to 
the very last ; nor can we refrain from pausing to pay a pass- 
ing tribute to his memory. He was acknowledged by his con- 
temporaries to be one of the ablest of those gallant Spanish 
navigators who first explored the way to the New World. But 
it is by the honest and kindly qualities of his heart that his 
memory is most endeared to us ; it is, above all, by that loyalty 
in friendsliip displayed in this his last and fatal expedition. 
Warmed by his attachment for a more youthful and a hot- 
headed adventurer, we see this wary veteran of the seas for- 
getting his usual prudence and the lessons of his experience, 
and embarking, heart and hand, pm-se and person, in the wild 
enterprises of his favourite. We behold him watching over 
him as a parent, remonstrating with him as a counsellor, but 
fighting by him as a partisan ; following him, without hesita- 
tion, into known and needless danger, to certain death itself, 
and showuig no other solicitude in his dying moments but to 
be remembered by his friend. 

The histories of these Spanish discoveries abound in noble 
and generous traits of character, but few have charmed us 
more than tlais instance of loyalty to the last gasp, in the 
death of the staunch Juan de la Cosa. The Spaniard who es- 
caped to tell the story of his end was the only sui-vivor of 
seventy that had followed Ojeda in this rash and headlong 
im-oad. 



CHAPTEE IV. 

ARRIVAL OP NICUKSA— VENGEANCE TAKEN ON THE INDIANS. 

While these disastrous occurrences happened on shore, 
great alarm began to be felt on board of the ships. Days had 
elapsed since the party had adventured so rashly into the wil- 
derness ; yet nothing had been seen or heard of them, and the 
forest spread a mystery over their fate. Some of the Spaniards 
ventured a little distance into the woods, but were deterred by 
the distant shouts and yells of the savages, and the noise of 



TimW VOYAGE OF ALONZO BE OJEDA. 53 

their conclis an ^ drims. Armed detaclinients then coasted 
the shore in boats, landing -^ccasi'^mplly, chmbmg the roclcs and 
promontories, firing signal-gnri«, and sounding trumpets. It 
waf all in vain thej- heard nothing but the echoes of their 
own noises, or perhaps the wild whoop of an Indian from the 
bosom of the forest. At length, when they were about to give 
up the search in despair, they came to. a great thicket of man- 
gi'ovfc trees on the margin of the sea. These trees grow within 
the water, but their roots rise, and are intertwined, above the 
surface In this entangled and almost impervious grove, they 
caught a ghmpse of a man in Spanish attire. They entered, 
an(", to their astonishment, found it to be Alonzo de Ojeda. 
He was lying on the matted roots of the mangroves, his buck- 
ler on his shoulder, and his sword in his hand ; but so wasted 
with hunger and fatigue that he could not speak. They bore 
him to the firm land ; made a fire on the shore to warm him, 
for he was chilled with the damp and cold of his hiding-place, 
and when he was a httle revived they gave him food and wine. 
In this way he gradually recovered strength to tell his doleful 
story.* 

He had succeeded in cutting his way through the host of 
savages, and attaining the woody skirts of the mountains ; but 
when he found himself alone, and that all his brave men had 
been cut off. he was ready to yield up in despair. Bitterly did 
he reproach liimself for having disregarded the advice of the 
veteran La Cosa, and deeply did he deplore the loss of that 
loyal follower, who had fallen a victim to his devotion. He 
scarce knew which way to bend his course, but continued on, 
ii . the darkness of the night and of the forest, until out of hear- 
ing ot the yells of triumph uttered by the savages over the 
bodies of his men. When the day broke, he sought the rudest 
parts ot the mountains, and hid himself until the night ; then 
struggling forward among rocks, and precipices, and matted 
forests, he made his way to the sea-side, but was too much ex- 
hausted to reach the ships. Indeed it was wonderful that one 

* The picture here given is so much like romance, that the author quotes his 
authority at length : — " Llegaron adonde havia. junto al agua de la mar, unos Man> 
glares, que son arboles. que siempre nacen, i creeen i permanecen dentro del agua 
de la mar. con grandes raices, asidas. i enmaranadas unas con otras, i alii metido, 
i escoudido hallaroii k Alonzo de Ojeda. con su espada en la mano, i la rodela en 
las espaldas, i en ella sobre trecientas seiiales de ttechazos. Estabo descaido de 
hambre, que no podia hechar de si la habla; i si no fuera tan robusto, aunque chico 
de cuerp^, fueia muefto." 

Las Casus. I. ii. c. 58. MS. Herrara, Hist. Ind. D. i. 1, vii. c. xv. 



54 s^A^Ui>JI voYAah's of discovkrt. 

BO small of frame should have heen able to endure such gi*eat 
hardships; but he was of admirable strength and hardihood. 
Ilis followers considered his escape from death as little less 
than miraculous, and he himself regarded it as another proof 
of the special protection of the Virgin ; for, though he had, as 
usual, received no wound, yet it is said his buckler bore the 
dints of upwards of tlu-ee hundred aiTows.* 

While the Spaniards 'were yet on the shore, administering 
to the recovery of their commander, they beheld a squadron 
of ships standing towards the harbour of Carthagena, and 
soon perceived them to be the ships of Nicuesa. Ojeda was 
troubled in mind at the sight, recollecting his late intem- 
perate defiance of that cavalier; and, reflecting that, should 
he seek him in enmity, he was in no situation to main- 
tain his challenge or defend himself. He ordered his men, 
therefore, to return on board the ships and leave him alone on 
the shore, and not to reveal the place of his retreat while 
Nicuesa should remain m the harbour. 

As the squadi'on entered the harbour, the boats sallied forth 
to meet it. The first inquiry of Nicuesa was concerning Ojeda. 
The followers of the latter rephed, mournfully, that their com- 
mander had gone on a warlike expedition into the country, 
but days had elapsed without his return, so that they feared 
some misfortune had befallen him. They entreated Nicuesa, 
therefore, to give his word, as a cavalier, that should Ojeda 
really be in distress, he wovdd not take advantage of his mis- 
fortunes to revenge himself for their late disputes. 

Nicuesa, who was a gentleman of noble and generous spirit, 
blushed with indignation at such a request. " Seek your com- 
mander instantly," said he; "bring him to me if he be alive; 
and I pledge myseK not merely to forget the past, but to aid 
him as if he were a brother, f 

When they met, Nicuesa received his late foe with open 
arms. "It is not," said he, "for Hidalgos, like men of vulgar 
souls, to remember past differences when they behold one an- 
other in distress. Henceforth, let all that has occurred be- 
tween us be forgotten. Command me as a brother. Myself 
and my men are at your ordere, to follow you wherever you 
XJlease, until the deaths of Juan de la Cosa and his comrades 
arc revenged." 

The spirits of Ojeda were once more lifted up by this gallant 

% Las Casas, ubi sup. t Ibid. 



THIRD VOYAGh: OF ALONZO 1)E OJEDA. 55 

and generous offer. The two governors, no longer rivals, 
landed four hundred of their men and several horses, and set 
off with all speed for the fatal village. They approached it 
in the night, and, dividing their forces into two parties, gave 
oi'ders that not an Indian should bo taken alive. 

The village was buried in deep sleep, but the woods were 
filled with large parrots, wliich, being awakened, made a pro- 
digious clamour. The Indians, however, thinking the Span- 
iards aU destroyed, paid no attention to these noises. It was 
not until their houses were assailed, and wrapped in flames, 
that they took the alarm. They rushed forth, some with arms, 
some weaponless, but were received at their doors by the exas- 
perated Spaniards, and either slain on the spot, or driven back 
into the fire. Women fled wildly forth ^vith cliildren in their 
aims, but at sight of the Spaniards glittering in steel, and of 
the horses, which they supposed ravenous monsters, they ran 
back, shrieking with horror, into their burning habitations. 
Great was the carnage, for no quarter was shown to age or sex. 
Many perished by the fire, and many by the sword. 

When they had fully glutted their vengeance, the Spaniards 
ranged about for booty. While thus employed, they found the 
body of the imfortunate Juan de la Cosa. It was tied to a tree, 
but swoln and discoloured in a hideous manner by the poison 
of the arrows with which he had been slain. This dismal 
spectacle had such an effect upon the common men, that not 
one would remain in that place during the night. Having 
sacked the village, therefore, they left it a smoking ruin, and 
returned in triumph to their ships. The spoil in gold and other 
articles of value must have been great, for the share of Nicuesa 
and his men amounted to the value of seven thousand castil- 
lanos.* The two governors, now faithfid confederates, parted 
with many expressions of friendship, and with mutual admira- 
tion of each other's prowess, and Nicuesa continued liis voyage 
for the coast of Veragua. 

* Equivalent to 37,281 dollars of the present day. 



56 tirAmjsu voyauhs of discovery. 



CHAPTER V. 

OJEDA FOUNDS THE fOT.ONY OF SAN SEBASTIAN — BELEAGUERED 
BY THE INDIANS. 

Ojeda now adopted, though tardily, the advice of his un- 
fortunate heutenant, Juan de la Cosa, and, giving up t.ll 
thoughts of colomsing tliis disastrous part of the coast, steered 
his covu'se for tiie Gulf of Ui'aba. He sought for some time the 
river Darien, famed among the Indians as abounding in gold, 
but not finding it, landed in various places, seeking a favour- 
able site for his intended colony. His people were disheart- 
ened by the disasters they had already undergone, and tho 
appearance of surrounding objects was not calculated to reas- 
sure them. The country, though fertile and covered with rich 
and beautiful vegetation, was in their eye& a land of cannibals 
and monstei's. They began to dread the strength as well as 
fierceness of the savages, who could transfix a man with their 
arrows even when covei'ed with armour, and whose shafts 
were tipped with deadly poison. They heard the bowlings of 
tigers, panthers, and, as they thought, lions in the forests, and 
encountered large and venomous serpents among the rocks and 
thickets. As they w^re passing along the banks of a river, 
one of their horses was seized by the leg by an enormous 
alligator, and dragged beneath the waves.* 

At length Ojeda fixed upon a place for his town on a height 
at the east side of the Gulf. Here, landing all that could be 
spared from the ships, he began with all diligence to erect 
houses, giving this embryo capital of his province the name of 
San Sebastian, in honour of that sainted martja', who was slain 
by arrows; hoping he might protect the inhabitants from the 
einpoisoned shafts of the savages. As a further protection he 
erected a large wooden fortress, and sxirrounded the place with 
a stockade. Feeling, however, the inadequacy of his handrul 
of men to contend with the hostile tribes around him, ho de- 
spatched a ship to Hispaniola, with a letter to the Bachelor, 
Martin Fernandez de Enciso, his Alcalde Mayor, informing him 
of his having established his seat of government, and urging 
him to lose no time in joining him with all the recruits, arms, 

* Herrera, Hist. Iiid, D. i. 1. vii. c. xvi. 



■niTRD VOYAGE OF ALONZO BE OJEDA. 57 

and provisions he could command. By the same ship he trans- 
mitted to San Domingo all the captives and gold he had col- 
lected. 

His capital being placed in a posture of defence, Ojeda now 
thought of making a progress through his wild territory, and 
set out, accordingly, with an armed band, to pay a friendly 
visit to a neighbouring cacique, reputed as possessing great 
treasures of gold. The natives, however, had by tliis time 
learnt the nature of these friendly visits, and were prepared to 
resist them. Scarcely had the Spaniards entered into the do- 
files of the surrounding forest when they were assailed by 
flights of arrows from the close coverts of the thickets. Som.e 
were shot dead on the spot; others, less fortunate, expired 
raving with the torments of the poison ; the survivors, filled 
witli horror at the sight, and losing all presence of mind, re- 
treated in confusion to the fortress. 

It was some time before Ojeda could again persuade his men 
to take the field, so great was their dread of the poisoned 
weapons of the Indians. At length their provisions began to 
fail, and they were compelled to forage among the villages in 
search, not of gold, but of food. 

In one of their expeditions they were surprised by an am- 
buscade of savages in a gorge of the mountains, and attacked 
with such fury and effect, that they were completely routed 
and pursued "with yells and bowlings to the very gates of St. 
Sebastian. Many died in excruciating agony of their wounds, 
and others recovered with extreme difficulty. Those who were 
well no longer dared to venture forth in search of food ; for the 
whole forest teemed with lui-king foes. They devoured such 
herbs and roots as they could find without regard to their 
quality. The humors of their bodies became corrupted, and 
various diseases, combined with the ravages of famine, daily 
thinned their nmnbers. The sentinel who feebly mounted 
guard at night was often found dead at his post in the morn- 
ing. Some stretched themselves on the ground and expired of 
mere famine and debility ; nor was death any longer regarded 
as an evil, but rather as a welcome relief from a life of horror 
and despair. 



58- SFA^Lill VOYAGES UF DISCOVERT. 



CHAPTER VI. 

ALONZO DE OJEDA SUPPOSED BY THE SAVAGES TO HAVE A 
CHARMED LIFE— THEIR EXPERIMENT TO TRY THE FACT. 

In the mean time the Indians continued to harass the garri- 
son, lying in wait to surprise the foraging parties, cutting off 
all stragglers, and sometimes approaclaing the walls in open 
defiance. On such occasions Ojeda sallied forth at the head of 
his men, and, from his great agility, was the first to overtake 
the retreating foe. He slew more of their warriors with his single 
arm than all his followers together. Though often exposed to 
showers of arrows, none had ever wounded him, and the In- 
dians began to think he had a charmed life. Perhaps they had 
heard from fugitive prisoners the idea entertained by him- 
self and his followers of his being under supernatural protec- 
tion. Determined to ascertain the fact, they placed four of 
then- most dexterous archers in ambush with ordei-s to single 
him out. A number of them advanced towards the fort 
sounding their conchs and drums and uttering yells of defiance. 
As they expected, the impetuous Ojeda sallied forth immedi- 
ately at the head of his men. The Indians fled towards the ain- 
buscade, drawing htm in fui-ious pursuit. The archers waited 
until he was full in front, and then laimched their deadly 
shafts. Three struck his buckler and glanced harmlessly off, 
but the fourth pierced his thigh. Satisfied that he was 
wounded beyond the possibihty of cui*e, the savages retreated 
with shouts of triumph. 

Ojeda was borne back to the fortress in great anguish of 
body and despondency of spirit. For the first time in his life 
he had lost blood in battle. The charm in which he had hith- 
erto confided was broken ; or rather, the Holy Vii'gin appeared 
to have withdrawn her protection. He had the hori-ible death 
of his followers before his eyes, who had peiishcd of their 
wounds in raving frenzy. 

One of the symptoms of the poison was to shoot a thrilling 
chill through the wounded part ; from this circumstance, i)er- 
haps, a remedy suggested itself to the imagination of Ojeda, 
which few but himself could have had the courage to undergo. 
He caused two plates of iron to be made red hot, and ordered a 
surgeon to apply them to each orifice of the wound. The sur- 
geon shuddered and refused, saying he Avould not be the mur- 



THIRD VOYAGE OF ALONZO BE OJEDA. 59 

derer of his general.* Upon this Ojeda made a solemn vo"v\ 
that he would hang him unless he obeyed. To avoid the gal- 
lows, the surgeon apphed the glowing plates. Ojeda refused 
to be tied down, or that any one should hold him during this 
frightful operation. He endured it without shi-inking or 
uttering a murmur, although it so uiflamed his whole system, 
that they had to wrap him in sheets steeped in vinegar to allay 
the birrning heat which raged throughout his body ; and wo 
are assured that a barrel of vinegar was exhausted for the pur- 
pose. The desperate remedy succeeded : the cold poison, says 
Bishop Las Casas, was consumed by the vivid fire.f How far 
the venerable historian is correct in his postulate, surgeons 
may decide; but many incredulous persons will be apt to 
account for the cure by surmising that the arrow was not en- 
venomed. 



CHAPTER VII. 

ARRIVAL OF A STRANGE SHIP AT SAN SEBASTIAN. 

Alonzo de Ojeda, though pronounced out of danger, was 
still disabled by his wound, and his helpless situation com- 
pleted the despair of his companions; for, while he was in 
health and vigour, his buoyant and mercurial spirit, his active, 
restless, and enterprising habits, imparted animation, if not 
confidence, to every one arornid him. The only hope of relief 
was from the sea, and that was nearly extinct, when, one day, 
to the imspeakable joy of the Spaniards, a sad appeared on the 
horizon. It made for the port and dropped anchor at the foot 
of the height of San Sebastian, and there Avas no longer a doubt 
that it was the promised succour from San Domingo. 

Tlie ship came indeed from the island of Hispaniola, but it 
had not been fitted out by the Bachelor Enciso. The com- 
mander's name was Bernardino de Talavera. This man was 
one of the loose, heedless adventurers who abounded in San 
Domingo. His carelessness and extravagance had involved 
him in debt, and he was threatened with a prison. In the 
height of his dilQSculties the ship arrived which Ojeda had 



♦ Charlevoix, lit, sup,, p. 293. 

tLas Casas, Hist. Incl. lib. ii. C. 59, MS. 



60 SPAAISII V07A0ES OF DISCOVERT. 

sent to San Domingo, freighted with slaves and gold, an 
earnest of the riches to be found at San Sebastian. Bernar- 
dino de Talavera immediately conceived the project of giving 
his creditors the slip and escaping to this new settlement. He 
understood that Ojeda was in need of reciaiits, and felt as- 
siu-ed that, from his own recldess conduct in money-matters, 
ho woidd sympathize with any one harassed by debt. He 
drew into his schemes a number of desperate debtors like 
himself, nor was he scrupulous about filling his ranks with 
recruits whose legal embarrassments arose from more criminal 
causes. Never did a more vagabond crew engage in a project 
of colonization. 

How to provide themselves with a vessel was now the ques- 
tion. They had neither money nor credit ; but then they had 
cimning and courage, and were troubled by no scniples of con- 
science; thus qualified, a knave will often succeed better for a 
time than an honest man ; it is m the long run that he fails, as 
vnl\ be illustrated in the case of Talavera and his hopeful asso- 
ciates. While casting about for naeans to escape to San Sebas- 
tian they heard of a vessel belonging to certain Genoese, which 
was at Cape Tiburon, at the western extremity of the island, 
taking in a cargo of bacon and casava bread for San Domingo. 
Nothing could have happened more opportunely : here was a 
ship amply stored with provisions, and ready to their hand; 
they had nothmg to do but seize it and embark. 

The gang, accordingly, seventy in number, made their way 
separately and secretly to Cape Tiburon, where, assembling at 
an appointed time and place, they boarded the vessel, over- 
powered the crew, weighed anchor, and set sail. They were 
heedless, hap-hazard mai'iners, and knew little of the manage- 
ment of a vessel ; the historian Charlevoix thinks, therefore, 
that it was a special providence Ihat guided theni to San Sebas- 
tian. Whether or not the good father is right in his opinion, 
it is certain that the arrival of the ship rescued the garrison 
f i-om the very brink of destruction. * 

Talavera and his gang, though they had come lightly by 
their prize, were not disposed to part Avith it as frankly, hut 
demanded to be paid down in gold for the provisions fiu-nished 
to the starving (;olonists. Ojeda agreed to their terms, and 
takhig the supplies into his possession, dealt them out spar^ 
ingly to his companicjns. Several of his hungry followers were 

♦ Hist. S. Domingo, lib. iv. 



THIRD VOYAGE OF ALONZO DE OJEDA. 61 

dissatisfied with their portions, and even accused Ojeda of un- 
fairness in reser\dng an undue share for himself. Perhaps 
there may have been some ground for this charge, arising, not 
from any selfishness in the character of Ojeda, but from one of 
Ihose superstitious fancies with which his mind was tinged ; for 
we are told that, for many years, he had been haunted by a 
presentiment that he should eventually die of hunger.* 

This lurldng horror of the mind may have made him depart 
from his usual free and lavish spiiit in doling out these provi- 
dential supplies, and may have induced him to set by an extra 
portion for himself, as a precaution against Ms anticipated fate ; 
certain it is that great clamours rose among his people, some 
of whom threatened to return in the pirate vessel to BUspa- 
niola. He succeeded, however, in pacifying them for the pres- 
ent, by representing the necessity of husbanding their supplies, 
and by assuring them that the Bachelor Enciso could not fail 
soon to arrive, when there would be provisions in abundance. 



CHAPTER YIII. 

FACTIONS IN THE COLONY — A CONVENTION MADE. 

Days and days elapsed, but no relief arrived at Sr.n Sebas- 
tian. The Spaniards kept a ceaseless watch upon the sea, but 
the promised ship failed to appear. With all the husbandry 
of Ojeda the stock of provisions was nearly consumed ; famine 
again prevailed, and several of the garrison perished through 
their various sufferings and their lack of sufficient nourish- 
ment. The sui'vivors now became factious in their misery, and 
a plot was formed aniong them to seize upon one of the vessels 
in the harbour and niake sail for Hispaniola. 

Ojeda discovered their intentions, and was reduced to greab 
perplexity. Ho sa that to remam here without relief from 
abroad was certfin destniction, yet he clung to his desperate 
enterprise. It v/at: his only chance for fortune or command ; 
for should his set.lement be broken up he might try in vain, 
with his exhau ted means and broken credit, to obtain another 
post or to fjet 0:1 foot another expedition. Euin in fact would 
overwhelxU him should he return without .access. 



* Herrcra, Dccad. 1. 1 viii. c. 3. 



6^ SPANISH VOYAGES OP DISCOVERY. 

He exerted himself, therefore, to the utmost to pacify hia 
men ; representing the folly of abandoning a place where they 
had established a foothold, and where they only needed a rein- 
forcement to enable them to control the surrounding country, 
and to make themselves masters of its riches. Finding thoy 
siill demurred, he offered, now that he was sufficiently recov- 
ered from his wound, to go himseK to San Domingo in quest of 
reinforcements and supplies. 

This offer had the desired effect. Such confidence had the 
people in the energy, ability, and influence of Ojeda, that they 
felt assured of relief should he seek it in person. They made a 
kind of convention with him, therefore, in which it was agreed 
that they should remain quietly at Sebastian's for the space of 
fifty days. At the end of this time, in case no tidings had been 
received of Ojeda, they were to be at liberty to abandon the 
settlement and return in the brigantines to Hispaniola. In the 
mean time Fi-ancisco Pizarro was to command the colony as 
Lieutenant of Ojeda, until the arrival of his Alcalde Mayor, 
the Bachelor Enciso. Tliis convention being made, Ojeda em- 
barked in the ship of Bei'nardino de Talavera. That cut-purse 
of the ocean and his loose-handed crew were effectually cured 
of their ambition to colonize. Disappointed in the hope of find- 
ing abundant wealth at San Sebastian's, and dismayed at the 
perils and horrors of the surrounding wilderness, they pre- 
ferred returning to Hispaniola, even at the risk of chains and 
dungeons. Doubtless they thought that the influence of Ojeda 
would be sufficient to obtain their pardon, especially as their 
timely succour had been the salvation of the colony. 



CHAPTER IX. 

DISASTROUS VOYAGE OF O.JEDA IN THE PIRATE SHIP. 

Ojeda bad scarce put to sea in the ship of these freebooters, 
when a fierce quarrel arose between him and Talavera. Ac- 
customed to take the lead among his companions, still feeling 
himself governor, and naturally of a domineering spirit, Ojeda, 
on coming on board, liad assumed the command as a matter of 
course. Talavera, who claimed dominion over the ship, by 
the right, no doubt, of trover and conversion, or, in othey 
words, of downright piracy, resisted this usurpation. 



THIliD VOYAGE OB' ALONZO DE OJEDA. 63 

Ojeda, as usual, would speedily have settled the question by 
the sword, but he had the whole vag;abond crew against him, 
who overpowered him with numbers and threw him in irons. 
Still his swelling spirit was unsubdued. He reviled Talavera 
and his gang as recreants, traitors, pirates, and offered to 
fight the whole of them successively, provided they would 
give him a clear deck, and come on two at a time. Notwith- 
standing his diminutive size, they had too high an idea of his 
prowess, and had heard too much of his exploits, to accept his 
•challenge ; so they kept liim raging in his chains while they 
pursued their voyage. 

They had not proceeded far, however, when a violent storm 
arose. Talavera and his crew toiew little of navigation, and 
were totally ignorant of those seas. Ths raging of the ele- 
ments, the bafiQing winds and currents, and the danger of 
unknown rocks and shoals filled them with confusion and 
alarm. They knew not whither they were driving before the 
storm, or where to seek for shelter. In this hour of peril they 
called to mind that Ojeda was a sailor as well as soldier, and 
that he had repeatedly navigated these seas. Making a truce, 
therefore, for the common safety, they took off his irons, on 
condition that he would pilot the vessel during the remainder 
of her voyage. 

Ojeda acquitted himself with his accustomed spirit and 
intrepidity; but the vessel had been already swept so far to 
the westward that all his skill was ineffectual in endeavouring 
to work up to Hispaniola against storms and adverse currents. 
Borne aAvay by the gulf stream, and tempest-tost for many 
days, imtil the shattered vessel was almost in a foundering 
condition, he saw no alternative but to run it on shore on the 
southern coast of Cuba. 

Here then the crew of freebooters landed from their prize in 
more desperate plight than when they first took possession of 
it. They were on a wild and unfrequented coast, their vessel 
lay a wreck upon the sands, and their only chance was to 
travel on foot to the eastern extremity of the island, and seek 
some means of crossing to Hispaniola, whore, after their toils, 
they might perhaps only arrive to be thrown into a dungeon. 
Such, however, is the yeaniing of civilized men after the 
haunts of cultivated society, that they set out at every 
visk, upon their long and painful journey. 



64 SrAmiiU VOYAGES OF DISCO VEET. 



CHAPTER X. 

TOILSOME MARCH OF OJEDA AND HIS COMPANIONS THROUGH THE 
MORASSES OF CUBA. 

Notwithstanding the recent services of Ojeda, the crew of 
Talavera still regarded him with hostility; but, if they had 
felt the value of his skill and courage at sea, they were no 
less sensible of their importance on shore, and he soon ac- 
quired that ascendency over them which belongs to a master- 
spirit in time of trouble. 

Cuba was as yet uncolonized. It was a place of refuge to 
the unhappy natives of Hayti, who fled hither from the 
whips and chains of theii* European task-masters. The for- 
ests abounded with these wretched fugitives, who often 
opposed themselves to the shipwrecked party, supposing 
them to be sent by their late masters to drag them back 
to captivity. 

Ojeda easily repulsed these attacks; but found that these 
fugitives had likewise inspired the villagers Avith hostiHty 
to all European strangers. Seeing that liis companions 
were too feeble and disheartened to fight their way through 
the populous parts of the island, or to climb the rugged 
mountains of the interior, he avoided all towns and villages, 
and led them through the close forests and broad greon 
savannahs which extended between the mountains and the 
sea. 

He had only made choice of evils. The forests gradually 
retired from the coast. The savannahs, where the Spaniards 
at first had to contend merely with long rank grass and creep- 
ing vines, soon ended in salt marshes, where the oozy bottom 
yielded no firm foot-liold, and the mud and water reached 
to their knees. Still they pressed forAvard, continually hop- 
ing in a little while to arrive at a firmer soil, and flattering 
themselves they beheld fresh meadow land before them, but 
continually deceived. The farther they proceeded, the deeper 
grew the mire, imtil, after they had been eight days on this 
dismal journey they found themselves in the centre of a vast 
morass where the water reached to their girdles. Though 
thus almost droAvned, they Avore tormented Avith incessant 
thirst, for all the water around them Avas as briuy as the 



THIRD VOYAGE OF ALONZO BE OJEDA. 65 

ocean. They suffered too the cravings of extreme hunger, 
having but a scanty supply of cassava bread and cheese, 
and a few potatoes and other roots, which they devoured 
raw. When they wished to sleep they had to climb among 
the twisted roots of mangrove trees, which grew in clusters 
in the waters. Still the dreary marsh widened and deepened. 
In many places they had to cross rivers and inlets; where 
some, who could not swim, were drowned, and others Avere 
smothered in the mire. 

Their situation became wild and desperate. Their cassava 
bread was spoiled by the water, and then' stock of roots 
nearly exhausted. The interminable morass still extended 
before them, while, to return, alter the distance they had 
come, was hopeless. Ojeda alone kept up a resolute spirit, 
and cheered and urged them forward. He had the little 
Flemish painting of the Madoima, which had been given 
him by the Bishop Fonseca, carefidly stored among the pro- 
visions in his knapsack. Whenever he stopped to repose 
among the roots of the mangrove trees, he took out this 
picture, placed it among the branches, and kneeling, prayed 
devoutly to the Virgin for protection. This he did repeatedly 
in the course of the day, and prevailed upon his companions to 
follow his example. Nay, more, at a moment of great de- 
spondency he made a solemn vow to his patroness, that if she 
conducted him alive through this peril, he would erect a chapel 
in the first Indian village he should arrive at ; and leave her 
picture there to remain an object of adoration to the Gentiles.* 

This frightful morass extended for the distance of thirty 
leagues, and was so deep and difficult, so entangled by roots 
and creeping vines, so cut up by creeks and rivers, and so 
beset by quagmires, that they were thirty days in traversing 
it. Out of the number of seventy men that set out from the 
ship but thirty-five remained. "Certain it is," observes the 
venerable Las Casas, "the sufferings of the Spaniai'ds in the 
New World, in search of wealth, have been more cinicl and 
severe than ever nation in the world endured ; but those expe- 
rienced by Ojeda and his men have surpassed all others." 

They were at length so overcome by hunger and fatigue, 
that some lay down and yielded up the ghost, and others seat- 
ing themselves among the mangrove trees, waited in despair 
for death to put an end to their miseries. Ojeda, with a few of 

* Las Casas, Hist. lod. 1. ii. c CO, MS. 



63 -^ 8FAi\imi VOYAGEii OF DISCOVERY. 

the lightest and most vigorous, continued to struggle forward, 
and, to their unutterable joy, at length arrived to where the 
land was firm and dry. They soon descried a foot-path, and, 
following it, arrived at an Indian village, commanded by a 
cacique called Oueybas. No sooner did they i^each the village 
than they sank to the earth exhausted. 

The Indians gathered round and gazed at them with wonder ; 
but when they Icamt their story, they exhibited a humanity 
that would have done honour to the most professuig Chris- 
tians. They bore them to theii- dwellings, set meat and drink 
before them, and vied with each other in discharging the 
offices of the kindest humanity. Finding that a number of 
their companions were still in the morass, the cacique sent a 
large party of India as with provisions for their relief, with 
orders to bring on their shouldei's such as were too feeble to 
walk. " The Indians," says the Bishop Las Casas, " did more 
than they were ordered ; for so they always do, when they are 
not exasperated by ill treatment. The Spaniards were brought 
to the village, succoured, cherished, consoled, and almost wor- 
shipped as if they had been angels. " 



CHAPTEE XI. 

OJEDA PERFORMS HIS VOW TO THE VIRGIN. 

Being recovered from his sufferings, Alonzo do Ojcda pre- 
pared to perform his vow concerning the picture of the Virgin, 
though sorely must it have grieved him to part with a rclique 
to which he attri})uted his deliverance from so many perils. 
H(i built a little hormitage or oratory in the villaq;e. and fur 
nished it with an altar, above which he placed the picture. He 
then stjmmonod the benevolent cacique, and explained to him 
as well as his limited knowledge of the language, or the aid of 
int<>rpreters would permit, the main points of the Catholic 
faith, and especially the history of the Virgin, whom he repre- 
sented as the mother of the Deity that reigned in the skies, and 
the great advocate for mortal man. 

The worthy caciqiie listened to him with mute attention, and 
though he might not clearly comprehend the doctrine, yet he 
conceived a profoimd veneration for the picture. Tlie senti- 
ment was shared by his subjects. They kept the little oratory 



THIRD VOYAGE OF ALONZO DE OJEDA. 67 

always swept clean, and decorated it with cotton hangings, 
laboured by their own hands, and with various votive offer- 
ings. They composed couplets or areytos in honour of the Vir- 
gin, which they sang to the accompaniment of rude musical 
instruments, dancing to the sound under the groves which 
surrounded the hermitage. 

A further anecdote concerning this relique may not be unac- 
ceptable. The venerable Las Casas, who records these facts, 
informs us that he arrived at the village of Cueybas sometime 
after the departure of Ojeda. He found the oratory preserved 
with the most religious care, as a sacred place, and the picture 
of the Virgin regarded with fond adoration. The poor Indians 
crowded to attend mass, which he performed at the altar ; they 
li&tened attentively to his paternal instructions, and at his 
request brought their children to be baptized. The good Las 
Casas, having heard much of this famous relique of Ojeda, was 
desirous of obtaining possession of it, and offered to give the 
cacique in exchange an image of the Virgin which he had 
brought with him. The chieftain made an evasive answer, 
and seemed much troubled in mind. The next morning he did 
not make his appearance. 

Las Casas went to the oratory to perform mass, but found 
the altar stripped of its precious relique. On inquiring, he 
learnt that in the night the cacique had fled to the woods, 
bearing off with him his beloved picture of the Virgin. It was 
in vain that Las Casas sent messengers after him, assuring him 
that he shoiild not be deprived of the relique, but on the con- 
trary, that the image should likewise be presented to him. 
The cacique refused to venture from the fastnesses of the for- 
est, nor did he return to his village and replace the picture in. 
the oratory until after the departure of the Spaniards.* 



CHAPTER XII. 



ARRIVAL OF OJEDA AT JAMAICA — HIS RECEPTION BY JUAN DE 

ESQUIBEL. 

When the Spaniards were completely restored to health and 
streng-th, they resumed their journey. The cacique sent a 
large body of his subjects to carry their provisions and knap- 



* Las Casas, Hist. Ind., c. 61, MS.— Herrera, Hist. Ind. d. i. 1. ix. c. xv. 



G8 SPAMSII rOTAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

sacks, and to guide them across a desert tract of country to the 
province of Macaca, Avhei-e Clu'istopher Columbus liad been 
hospitably entertained on his voyage along this coast. They 
experienced equal kindness from its cacique and his people, lor 
such seems to have been almost invariably the case with the 
natives of these islands, before they had held much inter- 
course with the Europeans. 

The province of Macaca was situated at Cape de la Cruz, the 
nearest point to the island of Jamaica. HereOjeda learnt that 
there were Spaniards settled on that island, being m fact the 
party commanded by the very J uan de Esquibel whose head he 
had threatened to strike off, when departmg in swelling stylo 
from San Domingo. It seemed to be the fortune of Ojeda to 
have liis bravadoes visited on his head in times of trouble and 
humiliation. He found himself compelled to apply for succour 
to the very man he had so vain-gloriously menaced. This was 
no time, however, to stand on jjoints of pride ; he procured a 
canoe and Indians from the caci<iue of IVIacaca, and one Pedro 
de Ordas undertook the perilous voyage of twenty leagues m 
the frail bark, and arrived safe at Jamaica. 

No sooner did Esquibel receive the message of Ojeda, than, 
forgetting past menaces, he instantly despatched a caravel to 
bring to him the mifortunate discoverer and his companions. 
He received him wath the utmost kindness, lodged him in his 
own house, and treated him in all things with the most delicate 
attention. He Avas a gentleman who had seen prosperous days, 
but had fallen into adversity and been buffeted about the 
world, and had learnt how to respect the feelings of a proud 
spirit in distress. Ojeda had the warm, touchy heart to feel 
such conduct; he remained several days with Esquibel in 
frank communion, and when he sailed for San Domingo they 
parted the best of friends. 

And here w^e cannot but remark the singular difference in 
character and conduct of these Spanish adventui-ers when deal- 
ing with each other, or with the unhappy natives. Nothing 
covild be more chivjdrous, urbane, and charitable; nothing 
more pregnant with noble sacrifices of passion and interest, 
Avith magnanimous instances of forgiveness of injiuies and 
i)oble contests of generosity, tluui the transactions of the dis- 
coverers with each other; but the moment they turned to treat 
A\ith the Indians, even Avith brave and high-minded caciques, 
they Avere vindictive, blood-thirsty, and implacable. The very 
Juan de Estiuibol, who could njquite the recent hostility of 



THIRD VOYAGE OF ALONZO DE OJEDA, 69 

Ojeda with such humanity and friendship, was the same who, 
under the government of Ovando, laid desolate the province of 
Higiiey in Hispaniola, and inflicted atrocious cruelties upon 
its inhabitants. 

When Alonzo de Ojeda set sail for San Domingo, Bernardino 
de Talavera and his rabble adherents remained at Jamaica. 
They feared to be brought to account for their piratical exploit 
in steahng the Genoese vessel, and that in consequence of their 
recent violence to Ojeda, they would find in him an accuser 
rather than an advocate. The latter, however, in the opinion 
of Las Casas, who knew him weU, was not a man to make ac- 
cusations. With aU his faults he did not harboiu" malice. He 
was quick and fiery, it is true, and his sword was too apt to 
leap from its scabbard on the least provocation ; but after the 
first flash all was over, and, if he cooled upon an injm'y, he 
never sought for vengeance. 



CHAPTER XIII. 



ARRIVAL OP ALONZO DE OJEDA AT SAN DOMINGO — CONCLUSION 
OP HIS STORY. 

On arriving at San Domingo the first inquiry of Alonzo de 
Ojeda was after the Bachelor Enciso. He was told that'he had 
departed long before, with abundant supplies for the colony, 
and that nothing had been heard of him since his departure. 
Ojeda waited for a time, in hopes of hearmg, by some return 
ship, of the safe arrival of the Bachelor at San Sebastian. No 
tidings, however, arrived, and he began to fear that he had 
been lost in those storms which had beset himseK on his return 
voyage. 

Anxious for the relief of his settlement, and fearing that, by 
delay, his whole scheme of colonization would be defeated, he 
now endeavoured to sot on foot another armament, and to en- 
list a new set of adventurers. His efforts, however, were all 
ineffectual. The disasters of his colony were known, and his 
own circumstances were considered desperate. He was doomed 
to exiDerience the fate that too often attends sanguine and bril- 
liant projectoi's. Tlie world is dazzled by them for a time, and 
hails them as heroes wliile successful ; but misfortune dissipates 



70 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

the charm, and they become stigmatized Avith the appellation 
of adventurers. When Ojeda figured in San Domingo as the 
conqueror of Coanabo, as the commander of a squadron, as the 
governor of a province, his prowess and exploits were the 
theme of every tongue. When he set sail, in vaunting style, 
for his seat of government, setting the viceroy at defiance, 
and threatening the life of Esquibel, every one thought that 
fortune was at his beck, and he was about to accomplish won- 
ders. A few months had elapsed, and he walked the streets of 
San Domingo a needy man, shipwrecked in hope and fortune. 
His former friends, dreading some new demand upon their 
purses, looked coldly on him; his schemes, once so extolled, 
were now pronounced wild and chimerical, and he was sub- 
jected to all kinds of slights and humiliations in the very place 
which had been the scene of his gi-eatest vain-glory. 

While Ojeda was thus Hngering at San Domingo, the Admi- 
ral, Don Diego Coliunbus, sent a party of soldiers to Jamaica 
to arrest Talavera and his pu'ate crew. They were brought in 
chains to San Domingo, thrown into dungeons, and tried for 
the robbery of the Genoese vessel. Their crime was too notori- 
ous to admit of doubt, and being convicted, Talavera and sev- 
eral of his principal accomplices were hanged. Such was the 
end of their frightful journey by sea and land. Never had 
vagabonds travelled farther or toiled harder to arrive at a gal- 
lows! 

In the course of the trial Ojeda had naturally been summoned 
as a witness, and his testimony must have tended greatly to 
the conviction of the culprits. This drew upon him the ven- 
geance of the surviving comrades of Talavera, who still lurked 
about San Domingo. As he was returning home one night at 
a late hour he was waylaid and set upon by a number of these 
miscreants. He displayed his usual spirit. Setting his back 
against a wall, and drawing his sword, he defended himself ad 
mirably against the whole gang ; nor was he content with beat- 
ing them off, but pursued them for some distance through the 
streets ; and having thus put them to utter rout, returned tran- 
quil and unharmed to his lodgings. 

This is the last achievement recorded of the gallant, but reck- 
less, Ojeda; for hero his bustling career terminated, and he 
sank into the obscurity that gathers round a ruined man. His 
health was broken by the various hardships he had sustained, 
and by the lurking effects of the wound received at San Sebas- 
tian, which had been but imperfectly cured. Poverty and net- 



'■' THIRD VOTAOE OF ALONZO BE OJEDA. 71 

gleet, and the corroding sickness of the heart, contributed, no 
less than the maladies of the body, to quench that sanguine 
and fiery temper, which had hitherto been the secret of his 
success, and to render him the mere wreck of his former self ; 
for there is no n^in so hopeless and complete as that of a tower- 
ing spirit hinniliated and broken down. He appears to have 
lingered some time at San Dommgo. Gomara, in Ms liistory 
of the Indies, aflQrms that he turned monk, and entered in the 
convent at San Francisco, where he died. Such a change 
would not have been surprising in a man who, in his wildest 
career, mingled the bigot with the soldier ; nor was it unusual 
with military adventurers in those days, after passing their 
youth in the bustle and Kcentioiisness of the camp, to end their 
days in the quiet and mortification of the cloister. Las Casas, 
however, who was at San Domingo at the time, makes no men- 
tion of the fact, as he certainly v/ould have done had it taken 
place. He confirms, hov/ever, aU that has been said of the 
striking reverse in his character and circumstances; and he 
adds an affecting picture of his last moments, which may serve 
as a wholesome comment on his life. He died so poor, that he 
did not leave money enough to provide for his interment; and 
so broken in spirit, that, with his last breath, he entreated his 
body might be biiried in the monastery of San Francisco, just 
at the portal, in humble expiation of Ms past pride, ' ' that every 
one ivho entered might tread upon his grave.''''* 

Such was the fate of Alonzo de Ojeda, — and who does not 
forget his errors and his faults at the threshold of his humble 
and untimely gTave ! He was one of the most fearless and 
aspiring of that band of "Ocean chivalry" that followed the 
footsteps of Columbus. story presents a lively picture of 

the daring enterprises, the extravagant exploits, the thousand 
accidents, by flood and field, that chequered the life of a 
Spanish cavaHer in that roving and romantic age. 

"Never," says Charlevoix, "was man more suited for a 
coup-de-main, or to achieve and suffer great tilings under the 
direction of another : none had a heart more lofty, or ambition 
more aspiring; none ever took less heed of fortune, or showed 
greater firmness of soul, or found moi'e resources in Ms own 
courage; but none was less calculated to be conimander-in- 
cMef of a great enterprise. Good management and good for- 
tune for ever failed him."t 

* Las Casas, ubi sup. t Charlevoix, Hist. S. Doming. 



•J^ SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCO VERY. 



THE VOYAGE OF DIEGO DE NICUESA. 



CHAPTER I. 

NICUESA SAILS TO THE WESTWARD —HIS SHIPWRECK AND SUB- 
SEQUENT DISASTERS. 

"We have now to recount the fortunes experienced by the 
gallant and genei-ous Diego de Nicuesa, after his parting from 
Alonzo de Ojeda at Carthagona. On resuming his voyage he 
embarked in a caravel, that he might be able to coast the land 
and reconnoitre ; he ordered that the two brigantines, one of 
which was commanded by his lieutenant, Lope de Olano, 
shoidd keep near to him, while the large vessels, which drew 
more water, should stand further out to sea. The squadron 
arrived upon the coast of Veragua, in stormy weather, and, as 
Nicuesa could not find any safe harbour, and was apprehensive 
of rocks and shoals, he stood out to sea at the approach of 
night, supposing that Lope do Olano would follow him with 
the brigantines according to his orders. The night was bois- 
terous, the caravel was much tossed and driven about, and 
when the morning dawned, not one of the squadron was in 
sight. 

Nicuesa feared some accident had befallen the brigantines ; 
he stood for the land and coasted along it in search of them 
until he came to a large river, into which he entered and came 
to anchor. He had not been here long when the stream sud- 
denly subsided, having merely been swoln by the rains. 
Before he had time to extricate himself the caravel groimded, 
and at length fell over on one side. The current rushing lilco 
a torrent strained the fec^ble bark to sucli a degree, that her 
seams yawned, and she appeared ready to go to pieces. In 
this moment of peril a hardy seamen threw liimself into the 
water to carry the end of a rope on shore as a moans of saving 
the crew. He was swo]it away by the furious current and 
perished in sight of his companions. Undismayed by his fate, 



THE VOYAGE OF DIKQO BE NICUESA. 73 

another brave seaman plunged into the Avaves and succeeded 
in reaching the shore. He then fastened one end of a rope 
firmly to a tree, and, the other being secured on board of the 
caravel, Nicuesa and his crew passed one by one along it, and 
reached the shore in safety. 

Scarcely had they landed when the caravel went to pieces, 
and with it perished their provisions, clothing, and all other 
necessaries. Nothing remained to them but the boat of the 
caravel, which was accidentally cast on shore. Here then they 
were, in helpless plight, on a remote and savage coast, without 
food, without arms, and almost naked. What had become of 
the rest of the squadron they knew not. Some feared that 
the brigantines had been wrecked ; others called to mmd that 
Lope de Olano had been one of the loose lawless men confeder- 
ated with Francisco Roldan in his rebellion against Columbus, 
and, judging him from the school in which he had served, 
hinted their apprehensions that he had deserted with the brig- 
antines. Nicuesa partook of their suspicions, and was anxious 
and sad at heart. He concealed his uneasiness, however, and 
endeavoured to cheer up his companions, proposing that they 
should proceed westward on foot in search of Veragua, the seat 
of his intended government, observing, that if the ships had 
survived the tempest, they would probably repair to that 
place. They accordingly set off along the sea shore, for the 
thickness of the forest prevented their traversing the interior. 
Four of the hardiest sailors put to sea in the boat, and kept 
abreast of them, to help them across the bays and livers. 

Their sufferings were extreme. Most of them were destitute 
of shoes, and many almost naked. They had to clamber over 
sharp and rugged rocks, and to struggle through dense foreste 
beset with thorns and brambles. Often they had to wade 
across rank fens and morasses and drowned lands, or to trav- 
erse deep and rapid streams. 

Their food consisted of herbs and roots and shellfish gath- 
ered along the shore. Had they even met with Indians they 
would have dreaded, in their unarmed state, to apply to tliem 
for provisions, lest they should take revenge for the outrages 
committed along this coast by other Europeans. 

To render their sufferings more intolerable, they were in 
doubt whether, in the storms which preceded their shipwreck, 
they had not been driven past Veragua, in which case each 
step would take them so much the farther from their desired 
haven. 



74 SPANISn VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

Still they laboured feebly forward, encouraged by the words 
and the example of Nicuesa, who cheerfully partook Oi the 
toils and hardships of the meanest of his men. 

They had slept one night at the foot of impending rocks, and 
were about to resume their weary march in the morning, 
when they were espied by some Indians from a neighbouring 
height. Among the followers of Nicuesa was a favourite page, 
whose tattered finery and white hat caught the quick eyes of 
the savages. One of them immediately singled him out, and 
taking a deadly aim, let fly an arrow that laid him expiring at 
the feet of his master. While the generous cavaher mourned 
over his slaughtered page, consternation prevailed among his 
companions, each fearing for his own life. The Indians, how- 
ever, did not follow up this casual act of hostility, but suffered 
the Spaniards to pursue their painfxil journey uninolested. 

Arriving one day at the point of a great bay that ran far 
inland, they were convej^ed, a few at a time, in the boat to 
what appeared to be the opposite point. Being all landed, and 
resuming their march, they found to their surprise that they 
were on an island, separated from the main land by a great 
arm of the sea. The sailors who managed the boat were too 
weary to take them to the opposite shore; they remained 
therefore all night upon the island. 

In the morning they prepared to depart, but, to their con- 
sternation, the boat with the four mariners had disappeared. 
They ran anxiously from point to point, uttering shouts and 
cries, in hopes the boat might be in some inlet; they clam- 
bered the rocks and strained their eyes over the sea. It was 
all in vain. No boat was to be seen ; no voice responded to 
their call ; it was too evident the f oiu* marinei-s had either per« 
ished or had deserted them. 



CHAPTER II. 

NICUESA AND HIS MEN ON A DESOLATE ISLAND. 

The situation of Nicuesa and his men was dreary and des- 
perate in the extreme. They were on a desolate island border- 
ing upon a swampy coast, in a remote and lonely sea, where 
commerce never spread a sail. Their comj^anions in the othei? 
ships, if still alive and true to them, had doubtless given theuj 



THE VOYAGE OF DIEOO BE NICUE8A. 75 

up for lost ; and many years might elapse before the casual 
bark of a discoverer might venture along these shores. Long 
before that time their fate would be sealed, and their bones 
bleacbing on the sands would alone tell their story. 

In this hopeless state many abandoned themselves to frantic 
grief, wandering about the island, wrmging their hands and 
uttering groans and lamentations ; others called upon God for 
succour, and many sat down in silent and sullen despair. 

The cravings of hunger and thirst at length roused them to 
exertion. They found no food but a few shell-fish scattered 
along the shore, and coarse herbs and roots, some of them of 
an unwholesome quality. The island had neither springs nor 
streams of fresh water, and they were fain to slake their thirst 
at the brackish pools of the marshes. 

Nicuesa endeavoured to animate his men with new hopes. 
Ho employed them in constructing a raft of drift-wood and 
branches of trees, for the purpose of crossing the arm of the 
sea that separated them from the main land. It was a difficult 
task, for they were destitute of tools, and when the raft was 
finished they had no oars with which to manage it. Some of 
the most expert swimmers undertook to propel it, but they 
were too much enfeebled by their sufferings. On their first 
essay the currents which sweep that coast bore the raft out to 
sea, and they swam back with difficulty to the island. Having 
no other chance of escape, and no other means of exercising 
and keeping up the spirits of his fv>llowers, Nicuesa repeatedly 
ordered new rafts to be constructed, but the result was always 
the same, and the men at length either gi-ew too feeble to work 
or renounced the attempt in despair. 

Thus, day after day and week after week elapsed without 
any mitigation of suffering or any prospect of relief. Every 
day some one or other sank under his miseries, a victim not so 
much to hunger and thirst as to grief and despondency. His 
death was envied by his wretched survivors, many of whom 
were reduced to such debility that they had to crawl on hands 
and knees in search of the herbs and shell-fish which formed 
their scanty food. 



76 SPANISU VOYAGES OF DISJOVEBT. 

CHAPTER III. 

ARRIVAL OF A BOAT— CONDUCT OF LOPE DE OLANO. 

When the unfortunate Spaniards, without hope of succour, 
began to consider death as a desirable end to their miseries, 
tliey were roused to new Ufe one day by beholding a sail gleam- 
ing on the horizon. Their exultation was checked, however, 
by the reflection how many chances there were against its 
approaching this wild and desolate island. Watching it with 
anxious eyes they put up prayers to God to conduct it to their 
relief, and at length, to their great joy, they perceived that it 
was steering directly for the island. On a nearer approach it 
proved to be one of the brigantines that had been commanded 
by Lope de Olano. It came to anchor: a boat put off, and 
among the crew were the four sailors who had disappeared so 
mysteriously from the island. 

These men accounted in a satisfactory manner for their de- 
sertion. They had been pei-suaded that the ships were in some 
harbour to the eastward, and that they were daily leaving them 
farther behind. Disheartened at the constant, and, in their 
opinion, fruitless toil which fell to their share in the struggle 
westward, they resolved to take their own counsel, without 
risking the opposition of Nicuesa. In the dead of the night, 
therefore, when theu" companions on the island were asleep, 
they had silently cast off their boat, and retraced their com-so 
along the coast. After several days' toil they found the brig- 
antines imder the command of Lope de Olano, in the river of 
Bclen, the scene of the disasters of Columbus in liis fourth 
voyage. 

The conduct of Lope de Olano was regarded with suspicion 
by his contemporaries, and is still subject to doubt. He is 
^^;lpposed to have deserted Nicuesa designedly, intending to 
usurp the command of the expedition. Men, however, Avere 
prone to judge harshly of him from his having been concerned 
in the treason and rebellion of Francisco Roldan. On the 
stormy night when Nicuesa stood out to sea to avoid the dan- 
gers of the shore, Olano took shelter imder the lee of an island. 
Seeing nothing of the caravel of his commander in the morn- 
ing, ho made no effort to seek for it, but proceeded with the 
brigantines to the liver Chagres, where he found the ships at 



THE VOYAGE OF DIEGO BE NICUESA. 77 

anchor. Tliey had landed all their cargo, being almost in a 
sinking condition from the ravages of the worms. Olano per- 
suaded the crews that Nicuesa had pei-ished in the late storm, 
and, being his heutenant, he assuined the command. Whether 
he had been perfidious or not in his motives, his command was 
but a succession of disasters. He sailed from Ohagres for the 
river of Belen, where the ships were found so damaged that 
they had to be broken to pieces. Most of the people construct- 
ed wretched cabins on the shoi-e, where, during a sudden 
storm, they were almost washed away by the swelling of the 
river, or swallowed up in the shifting sands. Several of his 
men were drowned in an expedition in quest of gold, and he 
himself merely escaped by superior swimming. Their provi- 
sions were exhausted, they suffered from hunger and from va- 
rious maladies, and many perished in extreme misery. All 
were clamorous to abandon the coast, and Olano set about con- 
structing a caravel, out of the wreck of the ships, for the pm-- 
pose, as he said, of returning to Hispaniola, though many 
suspected it was still his intention to persist in the enterprise. 
Such was the state in which the four seamen had found Olano 
and his party ; most of them hving in miserable cabins and 
destitute of the necessaries of life. 

The tidings that Nicuesa was still alive put an end to the 
sway of Olano. Whether he had acted with truth or perfidy, 
he now manifested a zeal to relieve his commander, and mime- 
diately despatched a biigantine in quest of him, which, guided 
by the four seamen, arrived at the island in the way that has 
been mentioned. 



CHAPTER IV. 

NICUESA REJOINS HIS CREWS. 

When the crew of the bi-igantine and the companions 01 
Nicuesa met, they embraced each other with tears, for the 
hearts, even of the rough mariners, were subdued by the sor- 
rows they had undergone ; and men are rendered kind to each 
other by a community of suffering. The brigantine had 
brought a quantity of palm nuts, and of such other articles of 
food as they had been able to procure along the coast. These 
the famished Spaniards devoured with such voracity that 
Nicuesa was obliged to interfere, lest they should injure tliem- 



78 SPAXISII VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. ^ 

Belves. Nor was the supply of fresh water less gratefid to 
their pai'ched and fevered palates. 

When sufliciently revived, they all abandoned the desolate 
island, and set sail for the river Belen, exulting as joyfully as 
if their troubles were at an end, and they were bound to a 
haven of delight, instead of merely changing the scene of 
suffermg and encountering a new variety of horrors. 

In the mean time Lope de Olano had been dihgently prepar- 
ing for the approaching interview with his commander, by 
pei-suading his fellow officers to intercede in his behalf, and to 
place his late conduct in the most favourable light. He had 
need of their intercessions. Nicuesa ari-ived, burning with 
indignation. He ordered him to be instantly seized and pun- 
ished as a traitor ; attributing to his desertion the ruin of the 
enterprise and the sutterings and death of so many of his brave 
followers. The fellow captains of Olano spoke in his favour ; 
but Nicuesa turned indignantly upon them: "You do well," 
cried he, ' ' to supphcate mercy for him ; you, who, yourselves, 
have need of pardon! You have parisicipated in his crime; 
why else have you suffered so long a time to elapse without 
compelluig him to send one of the vessels in search of me?" 

The captains now vindicated themselves by assurances of 
their behef in his having foundered at sea. They reiterated 
their supplications for mercy to Olano; draA\ang the most 
affecting pictui-es of their past and present sufferings, and 
urging the impolicy of mci'easing the horrors of their situation 
by acts of severity. Nicuesa at length was prevailed upon to 
spare his victim; resolving to send him, by the first opportun- 
ity, a prisoner to Spain. It appeared, in truth, no time to add 
to the daily blows of fate that were thinning the number of 
his followers. Of the gallant armament of seven hundred 
resolute and effective men that had sailed with him from 
San Domingo, four hundred had already perished by various 
miseries ; and of the survivors, many could scarcely be said to 
Uv 



CHAPTER V. 



SUPFERINGS OF NICUESA AND HIS MEN ON THE COAST OF I'HE 

ISTHMUS. 

The first caie of Nicuesa, on resuming the general command, 
was to take measures for the relief of his people, who were 



THE VOYAGE OF DIEOO DE NICUESA. 79 

perishing with famine and disease. AH those who were in 
health, or who had strength suflQcient to bear the least fatigue, 
were sent on foraging parties among the fields and villages of 
the natives. It was a service of extreme peril ; for the Indians 
of this part of the coast were fierce and warlike, and were the 
same who had proved so formidable to Columbus and his 
brother when they attempted to found a settlement in this 
neighbourhood. 

Many of the Spaniards were slaia in these expeditions. Even 
if they succeeded in collecting provisions, the toil of bringing 
them to the harbour was worse to men in their enfeebled con- 
dition than the task of fighting for them ; for they were obhged 
to transport them on their backs, and, thus heavily laden, to 
scramble over rugged rocks, through almost impervious 
forests, and across dismal swamps. 

Harassed by these pei-ils and fatig-ues, they broke forth into 
murmurs against their conmaander, accusing him, not merely 
of indifference to their sufferings, but of vrantonly imposing 
severe and unnecessary tasks upon them out of revenge for 
their having neglected him. 

The genial temper of Nicuesa had, in fact, been soured by 
disappointment ; and a series of harassing cares and evils had 
rendered him irritable and impatient ; but he wtis a cavaher of 
a generous and honourable nature, and does not appear to have 
enforced any services that were not indispensable to the com- 
mon safety. In fact, the famine had increased to such a 
degree, that, we are told, thirty Spaniards, having on one 
occasion found the dead body of an Indian in a state of decay, 
they were driven by hunger to make a moal of it, and were so 
infected by the horrible repast, that not one of them survived,* 

Disheartened by these miseries, Nicuesa determined to aban- 
don a place which seemed destined to be the grave of Span- 
iards. Embarking the greater part of his men in the two 
brigantines and the caravel which had been built by Olano, he 
set sail eastward in search of some more favourable situation 
for his settlement. A number of the men remained behind to 
await the ripening of some maize and vegetables which they 
had sown. These he left under the command of Alonzo Nunez, 
whom he nominated his Alcalde Ma3''or. 

When Nicuesa had coasted about four leagues to the east, a 
Genoese sailor, who had been with Columbus in his last voy- 

* Herrera, Hist. lud. D. i. and viii. c. 3. 



80 UrAM^JI VoyAGliS OF nitiUOVKRY. 

age, informed him that there was a fine harbour somewhere 
in that neighbourhood, which liad pleased the old admiral so 
highly that he had given it the name of Puerto Bello. He 
added that they might know the harbour by an anchor, half 
buried in the sand, which Columbus had left there; near to 
which was a fountain of remarkably cool and sweet water 
fjpringing up at the foot of a large tree. Nicuesa ordered 
search to be made along the coast, and at length they found 
the anchor, the fountain, and the tree. It was the same harv 
hour which bears the name of Portobello at the present day. 
A number of the crew were sent on shore in search of provi- 
sions, but were assailed b}' the Indians ; and, being too weak 
to wield their weapons with their usual prowess, were driven 
back to the vessels with the loss of several slain or wounded. 

Dejected at these continual misfortunes, Nicuesa continued 
his voyage seven leagues farther, until he came to the harboiu* 
to Avhich Columbus had given the name of Puerto de Bastimi- 
entos, or Port of Provisions. It presented an advantageous 
situation for a fortress, and was surrounded by a fniitf ul coun- 
try. Nicuesa resolved to make it his abiding place. " Here," 
said he, "let us stop, en el nomhre dcDiosP'' (in the name of 
God.) His followers, with the superstitious feeling with 
which men in adversity are prone to interpret every thing 
into omens, persuaded themselves that there was favourable 
augury in his words, and called the harbour " Nombre de 
Dios, " which name it afterwards retained. 

Nicuesa now landed, and, drawing his sword, took solemn 
possession in the name of the Catholic sovereigns. He im- 
mediately began to erect a fortress to protect his people 
against the attacks of the savages. As this was a case of exi- 
gency, he exacted the labour of every one capable of exertion. 
The Spaniards, thus equally distressed by famine and toil, for- 
got their favourable omen, cursed the place as fated to be their 
grave, and called down imprecations on the head of their com- 
mander, who compelled them to labour when ready to sink 
with hunger and debility. Those murmured no less who were 
sent in quest of food, which was only to be gained by fatigue 
and bloodshed; for, whatever they collected, they had to 
transport from great distances, and they were frequently 
waylaid and assaulted by the Indians. 

When he could spare men for the purpose, Nicuesa de- 
spatched the caravel for those whom he had left at the river 
Bolen. Many of them had perished, and the survivore had 



TEE VOYAGE OF DIEOO DE NICUESA. 81 

been reduced to such famine at times as to eat all kinds of 
reptiles, until a part of an alligator was a banquet to them. 
On mustering all his forces "when tiius united, Nicuesa found 
that but one hundred emaciated and dejected wretches re- 
mained. 

He despatched the caravel to Hispaniola, to bring a quan- 
tity of bacon which he had ordered to have prepared there, 
but it never returned. He ordered Gonzalo de Badajos, at the 
head of twenty men, to scour the country for provisions ; but 
the Indians had ceased to cultivate ; they could do with little 
food, and could subsist on the roots and wild fruits of the forest. 
The Spaniards, therefore, found deserted villages and barren 
fields, but lui'king enemies at every defile. So deplorably 
were they reduced by their sufferings, that at length there 
were not left a sufficient number in health and sti-ength to 
mount guard at night; and the fortress remained without 
sentinels. Such was the desperate situation of this once gay 
and gallant cavalier, and of his brilliant armament, which but 
a few months before had salhed from San Domingo, flushed 
w-ith the consciousness of power and the assurance that they 
had the means of compelling the favours of fortune. 

It is necessary to leave them for a while, and turn our atten- 
tion to other events which wiU ultimately be found to bear 
upon their destinies. 



CHAPTER VI. 



EXPEDITION OF THE BACHELOR ENCISO IN SEARCH OF THE SEAT 
OP GOVERNMENT OF OJEDA. — (1510.) 

In calling to mind the narrative of the last expedition of 
Alonzo de Ojeda, the reader will doubtless remember the 
Bachelor Martin Fernandez de Enciso, who was inspu-ed by 
that adventurous cavalier with an ill-starred passion for 
colonizing, and freighted a vessel at San Domingo with rein- 
forcements and supplies for the settlement at San Sebastian. 

Wlien the Bachelor was on the eve of saihng, a number of 
the loose hangers-on of the colony, and men encumbered with 
debt, concerted to join his ship from the coast and the out- 
ports. Their creditors, however, getting notice of their inten- 
tion, kept a close watch upon every one that went on board 



82 SPANISJI VOYAGJ^JS OF DISCOVERY. 

while in the harbour, and obtained an armed vessel from the 
Admiral Don Diego Columbus, to escort the enterprising Bach- 
elor clear of the island. One man, however, contrived to 
elude these precautions, and as he afterwards rose to great 
importance, it is proper to notice him particularly. His name 
was Vasco Nuiiez de Balboa. He was a native of Xeres de los 
Caballeros, and of a noble though impoverished family. Ho 
had been brought up in the service of Don Puerto Carrero, 
Lord of Moguer, and he afterwards enlisted among the adven 
turere who accomj)anied Rodrigo de Bastides in his voyage of 
discovery. Peter Martyr, in his Latin decades, speaks of him 
by the appellation of "egregius digladiator," which has been 
interpreted by some as a skilful swordsman, by others as an 
adi'oit fencing master. He intimates, also, that he was a mere 
soldier of fortune, of loose prodigal habits, and the circum- 
stances imder which he is first introduced to us justify this 
character. He had fixed himself for a time in Hispaniola, and 
imdertaken to cidtivato a farm at the town of Salvatierra, on 
the sea coast, but in a little time had completely involved him- 
self in debt. The expedition of Enciso presented him with an 
opportunity of escaping from his embarrassments, and of in- 
dulging his adventurous habits. To elude the \'igilance of his 
creditors and of the armed escort, he concealed himself in a 
cask, which was conveyed from his farm on the sea coast on 
board of the vessel, as if containing provisions for the voyage. 
When the vessel was fairly out at sea, and abandoned by the 
escort, Vasco Nufiez emerged like an apparition from his cask, 
to the great sui-prise of Enciso, who had been totally ignorant 
of the sti-atagem. The Bachelor was indignant at being thus 
outwitted, even though he gained a recruit by the deception ; 
and in the first ebullition of his wrath gave the fugitive debtor 
a very rough reception, threatening to put him on shore on 
the first uninhabited island they should encounter. Vasco 
Nuiiez, however, succeeded in pacifying him, "for God," says 
the venerable Las Casas, ' ' reserved him for greater things. " It 
is probable the Bachelor beheld in him a man well fitted for 
his expedition, for Vasco Nuiiez was in the prime and vigour 
of his days, tall and muscular, seasoned to hardships, and of 
intrepid spirit. 

Arriving at the main land, they touched at the fatal harbour 
of Carthagena, the scene of the sanguinary conflicts of Ojeda 
and Nicucsa with the natives, and of the death of the brave Juan 
de la Cosa. Enciso was ignorant of those events, having had 



THE VOYAGE OF DIEGO DE NICUE8A. 83 

no tidings from those adventurers since their departure from 
San Domingo ; without any hesitation, therefore, he landed a 
number of his men to repair his boat, which was damaged, 
and to procure water. While the men were woi'king upon the 
boat, a multitude of Indians gathered at a distance, well 
armed, and with menacing aspect, sounding their shells and 
brandishing thek weapons. The experience they had had of 
the tremendous powers of the strangers, however, rendered 
thein cautious of attacking, and for three days they hovered 
in this manner about the Spaniards, the latter being obliged to 
keep continually on the alert. At length two of the Spaniards 
ventured one day from the main body to fill a water cask from 
the adjacent river. Scarcely had they reached the margin of 
the stream, when eleven savages sprang from the thickets and 
surrounded them, bending their bows and pointing their 
arrows. In this way they stood for a moment or two in fear- 
ful suspense, the Indians refraining from discharging their 
shafts, but keeping them constantly pointed at their breasts. 
One of the Spaniards attempted to escape to his comrades, 
who were repairing the boat, but the other called him back, 
and understanding something of the Indian tongue, addressed 
a few amicable words to the savages. The latter, astonished 
at bemg spoken to in their ov/n language, now relaxed a little 
from then" fierceness, and demanded of the strangers who they 
were, who were their leaders, and what they sought upon their 
shores. The Spaniard repHed that they were harmless people 
who came from other lands, and merely touched there through 
necessity, and he wondered that they should meet them with 
such hostility ; he at the same time warned them to beware, 
as there would come many of his countrymen well armed, and 
would wreak terrible vengeance upon them for any mischief 
they might do. While they were thus parleying, the Bachelor 
Enciso, hearing that two of his men were sm*rounded by the 
savages, saUied instantly from his ship, and hastened with an 
armed force to then* rescue. As he approached, however, the 
Spaniard who had held the parley made him a signal that the 
natives were pacific. In fact, the latter had supposed that 
this was a new invasion of Ojeda and Nicuesa, and had thus 
arrayed themselves, if not to take vengeance for past out- 
rages, at least to defend their houses from a second desolation. 
When they were convinced, however, that these were a totally 
diiTerent band of strangers, and Avithout hostile intentions, 
their animosity was at an end ; they threw by their weapons 



S4: .'<^A^^Is^ voyages of discovery. 

and came foi-ward with the most confiding frankness. During 
the whole time that the Spaniards remained there, they 
treated them with the greatest friendship, supplying them 
with bread made from maize, with salted fish, and with the 
fermented and spirituous beverages common along that coast. 
Such was the magnanimous conduct of men who were con- 
sidered among the most ferocious and warlike of these savage 
nations; and who but recently had beheld their shores in- 
vaded, their villages ravaged and bm-nt, and their fiiends and 
relations but<;heied, without regard to age or sex, by the 
countrymen of these very strangers. When we recall the 
bloody and indiscriminate vengeance wreaked upon this people 
by Ojeda and his followei-s for their justifiable resistance of 
invasion, and compare it with their placable and considerate 
spu-it when an opportunity for revenge presented itself, we 
confess we feel a momentary doubt whether the arbitrary ap- 
pellation of savage is always applied to the right party. 



CHAPTER VII. 



THE BACHELOR HEARS UNWELCOME TIDINGS OF HIS DESTINED 
JURISDICTION. 

Not long after the arrival of Enciso at this eventful harbour 
he was surpiised by the circuuistance of a brigantme entering 
and coming to anchor. To encoimter an European sail in these 
almost unknown seas, was always a singular and striking oc- 
currence, but the astonishment of the Bachelor was mingled 
with alarm when, on boarding the brigantine, he found that it 
was manned by a number of the men who had embarked with 
Ojeda. His first idea was, that they had mutinied against their 
commander, and deserted with the vessel. The feelings of the 
magistrate were aroused within him by the suspicion, and he 
determined to take his first step as Alcalde Mayor, by seizing 
them and inflicting on them the severity of the law. He al- 
tered his tone, however, on conversing with then- resolute 
commander. This was no other than Francisco Pizarro, 
Avhom Ojeda had left as his locum tenens at San Sebastian, 
and who showed the Bachelor his letter patent, signed by that 
unfortunate governor. In fact, the little brigantine contained 
the sad remnant of the once vaunted colony. After the de- 



THE VOYAGE OF BIKUO I)K JSWUESA. 85 

parture of Ojeda in the pirate ship, his followers, whom he 
had left behind under the command of Pizairo, continued in 
the fortress untU the stipulated term of fifty days had expired. 
Eeceiving no succour, and hearing no tidings of Ojeda, they 
then determined to embark and sail for Hispaniola ; but hero 
an unthought-of diflBculty presented itself : they were sev enty 
in number, and the two brigantines which had been left with 
them were incapable of taking so many. They came to the 
forlorn agreement, therefore, to remain untU famine, sickness, 
and the poisoned arrows of the Indians should reduce theii- 
number to the capacity of the brigantines. A brief space of 
time was sufficient for the purpose. They then prepared for 
the voyage. Four mares, which had been kept alive as ter- 
rors to the Indians, were kiUed and salted for sea-stores. Then 
taking whatever other articles of provision remained, they em- 
barked and made sail. One brigantine was commanded by 
Pizarro, the other by one Valenzuela. 

They had not proceeded far when, in a storm, a sea struck 
the crazy vessel of Valenzuela with such violence as to cause 
it to founder with all its crew. The other brigantine was so 
near that the marinei's witnessed the struggles of their drown- 
ing companions and heard their cries. Some of the sailors, 
with the conunon disposition to the marvellous, declared that 
they had beheld a great whale, or some other monster of the 
deep, strike the vessel with its tail, and either stave in its sides 
or shatter the rudder, so as to cause the shipwreck.* The sur- 
viving brigantine then made the best of its way to the harbour 
of Carthagena, to seek provisions. 

Such was the disastrous account rendered to the Bachelor by 
Pizarro, of his destined jurisdiction. Enciso, however, was of 
a confident mind and sanguine temperament, and trusted to 
restore all things to order and prosperity on his arriva' 



CHAPTER VIII. 



ORUSADK OP THE BACHELOR ENCISO AGAINST THE SEPULCHRES 

OF ZENU. 

The Bachelor Enciso, as has been shown, was a man of the 
sword as well as of the robe ; having doubtless imbibed a pas- 

* Herrera, Hist. Ind. d. i. 1. vii. c. 10- 



86 SPAMSII VDVAaKS 01^' J)JS('0\ h'JiV. 

sion for military exploit fj'om his intimaoy with the discov- 
erers. Accordingly, while at Carthagona, he was visited by 
an impulse of the kind, and undertook an enterprise that 
would have been worthy of his friend Ojeda. He had been 
told by the Indians that about twenty-five leagues to the west 
lay a province called Zenu, the mountains of which abounded 
with the finest gold. This was washed down by torrents during 
the rainy season, in such quantities that the natives stretched 
nets across the rivers to catch the largest particles ; some of 
which were tjaid to be as large as eggs. 

The idea of taking gold in nets captivated the imagination of 
the Bachelor, and his cupidity was still more excited by fuither 
accounts of this wealthy province. He was told that Zenu Avas 
the general place of sepultiu-e of the Indian tribes through 
out the countiy, whither they bi-ought their dead, and biu'ied 
them, according to their custom, decorated with their most 
precious ornaments. 

It appeared to him a matter of coui'se, therefore, that there 
must be an immense accumulation of riches in the Indian 
tombs, from the golden ornaments that had been buried with 
the dead through a long series of generations. Fired with the 
thought, he determined to make a foi-ay into this province, 
and to sack the sepulchres ! Neither did he feel any compunc- 
tion at the idea of plundering the dead, considering the de- 
ceased as pagans and infidels, who had forfeited even the 
sanctuary of the grave, by having been bui'icd according to 
the rites and ceremonies of their idolatrous religion. 

Enciso, accordingly, made sail from Carthagena and landed 
with his forces on the coast of Zenu. Here he was promptly 
opposed by two caciques, at the head of a large band of war- 
riors. The Bachelor, though ho had thus put on the soldier, 
retained sufficient of the spirit of his former calling not to enter 
into quarrel without taking care to have the law on his side ; 
he proceeded regularly, therefore, according to the legal form 
recently enjomed by the crown. He caused to be read and 
interpreted to the caciques tlie same formula used by Ojeda, 
expounding the nature of the Deity, the supremacy of the pope 
and the right of the Catholic sovereigns to all these lands, by 
virtue of a grant from his holiness. The caciques listened to 
the whole very attentively and without interruption, accord- 
ing to the laws of Indian courtesy. They then replied that, as 
to the assertion that there wa ; but or.e God, the sovereign of 
heaven and earth, it seemed to thuin good, and that such must 



THE VOYAGE OF DTEGO DE NTCUERA. 87 

be the case ; but as to the doctrine that the po]5e was regent of 
the world in place of God, and that he had made a grant of 
their country to the Spanish king, they observed that the pope 
must have been drunk to give away what was not his, and tho 
king must have been somewhat mad to ask at his hands what^ 
belonged to others. They added, that they were lords of those 
lands and needed no other sovereign, and if this king should 
come to take possession, they would cut off his head and put it 
on a pole; that being their mode of dealing with their enemies. 
—As an illustration of this custom they pointed out to Enciso 
the very uncomfortable spectacle of a row of grizzly heads im- 
paled in the neighbourhood. 

Nothing daimted either by the reply or the illustration, the 
Bachelor menaced them with war and slavery as the conse^ 
quences of their refusal to believe and submit. They replied 
by threatening to put his head upon a pole as a representative 
of his sovereign. The Bachelor, having furnished them \vith 
the law, now proceeded to the commentary. He attacked the 
Indians, routed them, and took one of the caciques prisoner, 
but in the skirmish two of his men were slightly wounded with 
poisoned arrows, and died raving with torment.* 

It does not appear, however, that his crusade against the se- 
pulclu'es was attended with any lucrative advantage. Perhaps 
the experience he had received of the hostility of the natives, 
and of the fatal effects of their poisoned arrows, prevented his 
penetrating into the land with his scanty force. Certain it is, 
the reputed Avealth of Zenu, and the tale of its fishery for gold 
with nets, remained unascertained and uncontradicted, and 
were the cause of subsequent and disastrous enterprises. The 
Bachelor contented hunself with his victory, and returning t(? 
his ships, prepared to continue his voyage for the seat of gov 
ernm.ent established by Ojeda in the Gulf of Uraba. 



* The above anecdote is related by the Sachelcr Enci.'so himself, in a geographical 
v.'ork entitled f^uma de Geographin, which he published in Seville, in 1519. As tlie 
reply of the poor savages contains something of natural logic we give a part of it 
as reported by the Bachelor. " Respondieron me: que en lo que dezia que uo avia 
sino un dios y que este governaba el cielo y la tierra y que era senor do todo que les 
parecia y que asi debia ser: pero que en lo que dezia que el papa era serior de todo 
el universo en lugar de dios y que el avia feeho merced de aquella tierra al rey de 
Castllla; dixeron que el papa debiera estar boracho quaudo lo hizo pues daba lo que 
no era suyo, y que el rey que pedia y tomava tal merced debia ser alguu loco pues 
pedialo.Que era de otros," etc. 



88 »SiUi\7>i/ VOTAQES OF DISCOVERY. 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE BACHELOR ARRIVES AT SAN SEBASTIAN— HIS DISASTERS 
THERE, AND SUBSEQUENT EXPLOITS AT DARIEN. 

It was not without extreme difficulty, and the peremptory 
exercise of his authority as Alcalde iMayor, that Enciso pre- 
vailed upon the crew of Pizarro to return with him to the fated 
shores of San Sebastian. He at length arrived in sight of the 
long-wished-for seat of his anticipated power and authority; 
but here he was doomed like his principal. Ojeda, to meet with 
nothing but misfortune. On entering the harboin- his vessel 
struck on a rock on the eastern point. The rapid currents and 
tumultuous waves rent it to pieces; the crew escaped with 
gi'eat difficulty to the brigantine of Pizarro ; a httle flour, cheese, 
and biscuit, and a smaU pai't of the arms were saved, but the 
horses, mares, swine, and all other colonial supplies were swept 
away, and the unfortunate Bachelor behold the proceeds of 
several years of prosperous litigation swallowed up in an in- 
stant. 

His dream of place and dignity seemed equally on the point 
of vanishing, for, on landing, he found the fortress and its 
adjacent houses mere heaps of ruins, having been destroyed 
with lire by the Indians. 

For a few days the Spaniards maintained themselves with 
palm nuts, and with the flesh of a kind of wild swine, of which 
they naet with several herds. These supplies failing, the Bache- 
lor sallied forth with a hundred men to forage the country. 
They wei'e wajdaid by three Indians, who discharged all the 
arrows in their quivers with inci'cdible rapidity, wounded 
several Spaniards, and then fled with a swiftness that defied 
piu'suit. The Spaniards returned to the harbour in dismay. 
All their dread of the lurking savages and their poisoned wea- 
pons revived, and they insisted upon abandoning a place marked 
out for disaster. 

The Bachelor Enciso was himself disheartened at the situation 
of this boasted capital of San Sebastian ; — but whither could he 
go where the same misfortunes might not attend him? In this 
moment of doubt and despondency, Vasco Nunez, the same 
absconding debtor who had been smuggled on board in the 
cask, stepped forward to give counsel. He informed the 



THE VOYAGF OF DIEGO BE NICUESA. 89 

Bachelor that sevpr-il years pre-ioiisly he had sailed along that 
coast mth Rodrigo de Bastides. They had explored the whole 
gulf of Uraba ; and he well remembered an Indian village situ- 
ated on the western side, i^n the banks of a river which the 
natives called Darien. Tlie country around was fertile and 
abundant, and was said to possess mines of gold; and the na- 
tives, though a warlike race, never made use of poisoned 
weapons. He offered to guide the Bachelor to this place, where 
they might get a supply of provisions, and even found their 
colony. 

The Spaniards hailed the words of Vasco Nufiez as if reveal- 
ing a land of promise. The Bachelor adopted his advice, and, 
guided by him, set sail for the village, determined to eject the 
inhabitants and take possession of it as the seat of govei-nment. 
Ai'rived at the river, he landed, put his men in martial array, and 
marched along the banks. The place was governed by a brave 
cacique named Zemaco. When he heard of the approach of the 
Spaniards, he sent oft" tho women and children to a place of 
safety, and posting himself with five hundred of his warriors on 
a height, prepared to give the intruders a warm reception. Tho 
Bachelor was a discoverer at all points, pious, daring, and 
rapacious. On beholding this martial array he recommended 
himself and his followers to God, making a vow in their name 
to ' ' Our Lady of Antigua, " whose image is adored with gi*eat 
devotion in Seville, that the first church and town which they 
built should be dedicated to her, and that they would make a 
pilgi-miage to Seville to offer the spoils of the heathen at lier 
shrine. Having thus endeavoured to propitiate the favoui- of 
Heaven, and to retain the Holy Virgin in his cause, he next 
proceeded to secure the fidehty of his followers. Doubting 
that they might have some lurking dread of poisoned arrows, 
he exacted from them all an oath that they woiild not turn 
their backs upon the foe, whatever might happen. Never did 
warrior enter into battle with more preliminary forms and 
covenants than the Bachelor Enciso. All these points being 
arranged, he assumed the soldier, and attacked the enemy with 
such valour, that though they made at first a show of fierce 
resistance, they were soon put to flight, and many of them 
slain. The Bachelor entered the village in triumpli, took jios- 
session of it by unquestionable right of conquest, and plundered 
all the liamlets and houses of the surromiding country ; collect- 
ing gi'eat quantities of food and cotton, with bracelets, anklets, 
plates, and other ornaments of gold, to the value of ten thou- 



90 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISVOVIUIY. 

sand castellanos.* His heart was wonderfully elated by hin 
victory and his booty ; liis followers, also, after so many hard 
sh.i]is and disasters, gave themselves up to joy at this tuni oi 
good fortune, and it Avas unanimously agreed that the seat of 
govermnent should be established in tliis village ; to wliich, in 
fulfilment of his vow, Enciso gave the name of Santa Maria do 
la Antigua del Darieu. 



CHAPTER X. 



THE BACHELOR ENCISO UNDERTAKES THE COMJIAND— HIS DOWN- 
FALL. 

The Bachelor Enciso now entered upon the exercise of his 
civil functions as Alcalde Mayor, and Lieutenant of the absent 
governor, Ojeda. His first edict was stern and peremjitory ; 
he forbade all trafficking with the natives for gold, on private 
account, under pain of death. This was in conformity to royal 
command ; but it was little palatable to men who had engaged 
in the enterprise in the hopes of eiijoying free trade, lawless 
liberty, and golden gains. They mimnured among themselves, 
and insinuated that Enciso intended to resei-ve all the profit 
to himself. 

Vasco Nunez was the first to take advantage of the general 
discontent. He had risen to consequence among his fellow- 
adventurers, from having guided them to this place, and from 
his own intrinsic qualities, being hardy, bold, and intelligent, 
and possessing the random spirit and open-handed generosity 
common to a soldier of fortune, and calculated to dazzle and 
delight the multitude. 

He bore no good will to the Bachelor, recollecting his threat 
of landing him on an uninhabited island, when he escaped in 
a cask from San Domingo. He sought, therefore, to make a 
party against him, and to unseat him from his command. He 
attacked him in his own way, with legal weapons, questioning 
the legitimacy of his pretensions. The boundary line, he ob- 
served, which separated the jurisdictions of Ojeda and Nicuesa, 
ran through the centre of the gulf of Uraba. The village of 
Darien lay on the western side, which had been allotted to 

♦ Kquival nt to a present sum of n;!.2"9 dollars. 



THE VOYAGE OF DIEGO DE NIC VESA. Q\ 

Nicuesa. Enciso, therefore, as Alcalde Mayor and Lieutenant 
of Ojeda, could have no jurisdiction here, and his assumed 
authority was a sheer usurpation. 

The Spaniards, already incensed at the fiscal regulations of 
Enciso, were easily convinced; so with one accord they refused 
allegiance to him; and the unfortanate Bachelor found the 
cliair of authority to which he had so fondly and anxiously 
aspired, suddenly wrested from under him, before he had well 
thne to take his seat. 



CHAPTER XI. 

PERPLEXITIES AT THE COLONY — ARRIVAL OF COLMENARES. 

To depose the Bachelor had been an easy matter, for most 
men are ready to assist in pulling down ; but to choose a suc- 
cessor was a task of far more difficulty. The people at first 
agi-eed to elect mere civil magistrates, and accordingly 
appomted Vasco Nunez and one Zamudio as alcaldes, together 
with a cavalier of some merit of the name of Valdivia, as 
regidor. They soon, however, became dissatisfied with this 
arrangement, and it was generally considered advisable to vest 
the authority in one person. Who this person should be, was 
now the question. Some proposed Nicuesa, as they were 
within his province ; others were strenuous for Vasco Nuilez. 
A violent dispute ensued, which was carried on with such heat 
and obstinacy, that many, anxious for a quiet hfe, declared it 
v^^ould be better to reinstate Enciso until the pleasure of the 
king should be known. 

In the height of these factious altercations the Spaniards 
were aroused one day by the thundering of cannon frora the 
opposite side of the gulf, and beheld columns of smoke rising 
from the hills. Astonished at these signals of civilized man on 
these wild shores, they replied in the same manner, and in a 
short time two sliips were seen standing across the gulf. They 
proved to be an armament commanded by one Rodrigo de 
Colmenares, and wore in search of Nicuesa with supplies. 
They had met with the usual luck of adventurers on this dis- 
astrous coast, storms at sea and savage foes on shore, and 
many of their munber had fallen by poisoned arrows. Col- 
menares had touched at San Sebastian to learn tidings of 



92 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY. 

Nicuesa; but, finding the fortress in ruins, had made signals, 
in hopes of being heard by the Spaniards, should they be yet 
lingering in the neighbourhood. 

The arrival of Colmenares caused a temporary suspension 
of the feuds of the colonists. He distributed pro\dsions among 
them and gained their hearts. Then, representing the legiti- 
mate right of Nicuesa to the conunand of all that part of the 
coast as a governor appointed by the king, he persuaded the 
greater part of the people to acknowledge his authority. It 
was generally agreed, therefore, that he should cruise along 
the coast in search of Nicuesa, and that Diego de Albitez, and 
an active member of the law, called the Bachelor Corral, 
should accompany liini as ambassadors, to invite that cavalier 
to come and assume the govenunent of Darien. 



CHAPTER XII. 

COLMENARES GOES IN QUEST OF NICUESA. 

RcDRiGO DE Colmenares proceeded along the coast to the 
westward, looking into every bay and harbour, but for a long 
time without success. At length one day he discovered a brig- 
antine at a smaU island in the sea. On making up to it, he 
found that it was part of the armament of Nicuesa, and had 
been sent out by him to forage for provisions. By this vessel 
he was piloted to the port of Nombre de Dios, the nominal 
capital of the unfortunate governor, but which was so sur- 
roimded and overshadowed by forests, that he might have 
passed by without noticing it. 

The arrival of Colmenares was welcomed with transports 
and tears of joy. It was scarcely possible for him to recognize 
the once buoyant and brilliant Nicuesa in the squalid and de- 
jected man before him. He was living in the most abject 
misery. Of all his once gallant and powerful band of fol- 
lowers, but sixty men remained, and those so feeble, yoYln^". 
eniiiciated, and woe-begone, that it was piteous to behold 
them.* 



* Tlie harbour of Noinbro de Dios continued foralon^ time to present traces of 
the sufferiiiKs of tilt! Spaniards. We are told liy Ilerrera, that several years after 
til' time here mentioned, a band of eiRlity Spanish soldiers, ooninianded by Gon- 
zalo(h' Badajos, arrived at the harbour with an intention of penelratin;? into the 
interior. They found there the ruined fort of Nicuesa, together with skuHsand 



THE VOYAGE OF DIEQO BE NIGUESA. gg 

Colmenares distributed food among them, and told them 
that he had come to convey them to a plenteous country, and 
one rich in gold. When Nicuesa heard of the settlement at 
Darien, and that the inhabitants had sent for him to come and 
govern them, he was as a man suddenly revived from death. 
All the spirit and munificence of the cavalier again awakened 
in him. He gave a kind of banquet that very day to Colme- 
nares and the ambassadors, from the provisions brought in the 
ship. He presided at his table with his former hilarity, and 
displayed a feat of his ancient office as royal carver, by hold- 
ing up a fowl in the air and dissecting it with wonderful 
adroitness. 

Well would it have been for Nicuesa had the sudden buoy- 
ancy of his feehngs carried him no further, but adversity had 
not taught him prudence. In conversing with the envoys 
about the colony of Darien, he already assumed the tone of 
governor, and began to disclose the kind of policy with which 
he intended to rule. When he heard that great quantities of 
gold had been collected and retained by private individuals, 
his ire was kindled. He vowed to make them refund it, and 
even talked of punishing them for trespassing upon the privi- 
leges and monopolies of the crown. This was the very error 
that had unseated the Bachelor Enciso from his government, 
and it was a strong measure for one to threaten who as j^et was 
governor but in expectation. The menace was not lost upon 
the watchful ambassadors Diego de Albitez and the Bachelor 
Corral. They were put still more on the alert by a conversa- 
tion which they held that very evening with Lope de Olano, 
who was still detained a prisoner for his desertion, but who 
found means to commune with the envoys, and to prejudice 
them against his unsuspecting commander. "Take warning," 
said he, ' ' by my treatment. I sent relief to Nicuesa and 
rescued him from death when starving on a desert island. 
Behold my recompense. He repays me with imprisonment 
and chains. Such is the gratitude the people of Darien may 
look for at his hands !" 

The subtle Bachelor Corral and his fellow envoy laid these 
matters to heart, and took their measvu-es accordingly. They 

bones, and crosses erected on heaps of stones, dismal mementos of liis followers 
who had perished of hunger; the sig-ht of which struck such horror and dismay into 
the hearts of the soldiers that they would have abandonod tlieirfnteri)rise, had not 
their intrepid captain immediately sent away the ships, and thus deprived them of 
the means of T&tve&tva^.—Hcvrera. d. xi. 1. i. 



94 SPAmsH VOYAGES OF DISCO V Eli Y. 

hurried their departure before Nicuesa, and setting all sail on 
their caravel, hastened back to Darien. The moment they 
arrived they summoned a meetinp; of the principal inhabitants. 
" A blessed change we have made," saA tney, "in summoning 
this Diego de Nicuesa to the command! We have called in the 
stork to take the l^lle, who will not rest satisfied until he has 
devoured us." They then related, with the usual exaggeration, 
the unguarded thi^eats that haA fallen from Nicuesa, and 
instanced his treatment of Olano as a proof of a tyrannous and 
migratefid disposition. 

The words of the subtle Bachelor Corral and his associate 
produced a violent agitation among the people, especially 
among those who had amassed treasures which would have to 
be refunded. Nicuesa, too, by a transaction which almost de- 
stroys sympathy in his favour, gave time for their passions to 
ferment. On his way to Darien he stopped for several days 
among a group of small islands, for the purpose of capturing 
Indians to be sold as slaves. While committing these outrages 
against humanity, ho sent forwaid Juan de Cayzedo in a boat 
to announce his coming. His messenger had a private pique 
against him, and played him false. He assured the people of 
Darien that all they had been told by their envoys concerning 
the tyranny and ingratitude of Nicuesa was true. That he 
treated his followers with wanton severity ; that he took from 
them nil they won in battle, saying, that the spoils were his 
I'ightiul property ; and that it was his intention to treat the 
people of Darien in the same nianner. "What folly is it in 
you," added he, "being your own masters, and in such free 
condition, to send for a tyrant to ride over you !" 

The people of Darien were convinced by this concurring tes- 
timony, and confounded by the overwhelming evil they had 
thus invoked upon their heads. They had deposed Enciso for 
his severity, and they had thrown themselves into the power 
o!; one who threatened to be ten times more severe! Vasco 
Nunez de Balboa observed their perplexity and consternation. 
He drew them one by one apart, and conversed with them in 
private. "You are cast doAvn in heart," said he, "and so you 
might well be, were the evil beyond all cure. But do not 
d(^spair; there is an elfectual relief, and you hold it in your 
hands. Tf you have committed an eri-or in inviting Nicuesa to 
Darien, it is easily remedied by not leceiving liim when he 
comes I" The obviousness and simplicity of the remedy struck 
every mind, and it was imanimously adoi>tcd. 



THE VOTJ^GE OF DIEGO DE NIGUESA. 95 

CHAPTER XIII. 

CATASTROPHE OF THE UNFORTUNATE NICUESA. 

WfiiLE this hostile plot was maturing at Darien, the unsus- 
pecting Nicuesa pursued his voyage leisurely and serenely, and 
arrived in safety at the mouth of the river. On approaching 
the shore he beheld a multitude, headed by Vasco NufLez, 
waiting, as he supposed to receive him with all due honour. 
He was about to land, when the public procurator, or attorney, 
called to him with a loud voice, warning him not to disembark, 
but advising him to retm-n with aU speed to his government at 
Nombre de Dios. 

Nicuesa remained for a moment as if thunder-struck by so 
unlooked-for a salutation. When he recovered his self-posses- 
sion he reminded them that he had come at their own request ; 
he entreated, therefore, that he might be allowed to land and 
have an explanation, after which he would be ready to act as 
they thought proper. His entreaties were vain; they only 
provoked insolent rephes, and threats of violence should he 
venture to put foot on shore. Night coming on, therefore, he 
was obliged to stand out to sea, but returned the next morn- 
ing, hoping to find this capricious people in a different mood. 

There did, indeed, appear to be a favourable change, for he 
was now inxated to land. It was a mere stratagem to get him 
in their power, for no sooner did he set foot on shore than the 
multitude rushed foi'ward to seize him. Among his many 
l)odily endowments, Nicuesa was noted for swiftness of foot. 
He now trusted to it for safety, and, throwing off the dignity 
of governor, fled for his life along the shore, pursued by the 
rabble. He soon distanced his pursuers and took refuge in the 
woods. 

Vasco Nuiiez de Balboa, who was himself a man of birth, 
seeing this high-bred cavalier reduced to such extremity, and 
at the mercy of a violent rabble, repented of what he had done. 
He had not anticipated such popular fury, and endeavoured, 
though too late, to allay the tempest he had raised. He suc- 
ceeded in pi eventing the people from pursuing Nicuesa into fcho 
forest, and then endeavoured to mollify the vindictive rage of 
his fellow Alcalde, Zamudio, whose hostility was quickened by 
the dread of losing his office, should the new governor be re- 
ceived ; and who was supported in his boisterous conduct bv 



06 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

the natural love of the multitude for what are called " strong 
uieasiires." Nicuesa now held a parley with the popidace, 
through the mediation of Vasco Nuiiez. He begged that, if 
they would not acknowledge him as governor, they would at 
least admit liim as a companion. This they refused, saying, 
that if they admitted him in one capacity, he would end by at- 
taining to the other. He then implored, that if he could be 
admitted on no other terms, they would treat him as a prisoner, 
and put him in irons, for he would rather die among them than 
return to Nombre de Dios, to perish of famine, or by the arrows 
of the Indians. 

It was in vain that Vasco Nuiiez exerted his eloquence to 
obtain some grace for this unhappy caA^aUer. His voice was 
drowned by the vociferations of the multitude. Among these 
was a noisy swaggering fellow named Francisco Benitez, a 
great talker and jester, who took a vulgar triumph in the dis- 
tresses of a cavalier, and answered every plea in his behalf 
with scoffs and jeers. He was an adherent of the Alcalde Za- 
mudio, and imder his patronage felt emboldened to bluster. 
His voice was even uppermost in the general clamour, until, to 
the expostulations of Vasco Nuiiez, he replied by merely bawl- 
ing with great vociferation, "No, no, no! — we will receive no 
such a felloAv among us as Nicuesa !" The patience of Vasco 
Nuiiez was exhausted ; he availed himseK of his authority as 
Alcade, and suddenly, before his fellow magistrate could inter- 
fere, ordered the brawling ruffian to be rewarded Avith a hun- 
dred lashes, which were taled out roundly to him upon the 
shoulders.* 

Seeing that the fury of the populace was not to be pacified, 
he sent word to Nicuesa to retire to his brigantine, and not to 
venture on shore until adAdsed by him to do so. The co^msel 
Avas fiiiitless. Nicuesa, above deceit himself, suspected it not 
in others. He retired to his brigantine, it is true, but suffered 
himself to be inveigled on shore by a deputation professing to 
come on the part of the public, Avith offers to reinstate him as 
governor. He had scarcely landed when he Avas set upon by 
an armed band, headed by the base-minded Zamudio, who 
seized him and compelled him, by menaces of death, to swear 
that he Avould immediately depai't, and make no delay in 
any place until he had presented himself before the kuig and 
council in Castile. 

Lss Casaij, Hist. Ind. 1. ii. c. C8. 



THE VOYAGE OF DIEGO BE NICUESA. 97 

It was in vain that Nicuesa reminded them that he was gov- 
ernor of that territory and representative of the king, and 
that they were guilty of treason in thus opposing him ; it was 
in vain that he appealed to their humanity, or protested be- 
fore God against theii' cruelty and persecution. The people 
were in that state of tumidt when they are apt to add cruelty 
to injustice. Not content with expelling the discarded gov- 
ernor from their shores, they allotted him the worst vessel in 
the harbour ; an old crazy brigantine totally unfit to encoun- 
ter the perils and labours of the sea. 

Seventeen followers embarked with him ; some being of his 
household and attached to his person; the rest were volun- 
teers Avho accompanied him out of respect and sympathy. 
The fi'ail bark set sail on the first of March, 1511, and steered 
across the Caribbean sea for the island of Hispaniola, but was 
never seen or heard of more ! 

Various attempts have been made to penetrate the mystery 
that covers the fate of the brigantine and its crew. A rumour 
prevailed some years afterwards that several Spaniards, wan- 
dering along the shore of Cuba, found the following inscription 
carved on a tree : 

Aqui feneci6 el desdicado Nicuesa. 
(Here perished the unfortunate Nicuesa.) 

Hence it was inferred that he and his followers had landed 
thei-e, and been massacred by the Indians. Las Casas, how- 
ever, discredits this story. He accompanied the first Span- 
iards who took possession of Cuba, and heard nothing of the 
fact, as he most probably would have done had it really oc- 
c\n-red. He imagines, rather, that the crazy bark was swal- 
/owed up by the stoi-ms and currents of the Caribbean sea, 
or that the crew perished with hunger and thirst, having 
boon but scantily supplied ^vith provisions. The good old bishop 
ndds, with the superstitious feeling prevalent in that age, that 
a short time before Nicuesa sailed from Spain on his expedi- 
tion, an astrologer warned him not to depart on the day he had 
appointed, or under a certain sign; the cavaher replied, how- 
ever, that he had less confidence in the stars than in God who 
made them. "I recollect, moreover," adds Las Casas, "that 
about this time a comet was seen over this island of Hispaniola, 
Avhich, if I do not forget, was in the shape of a sword; and it 
was said that a monk warned several of those about to embark 



98 SPAmSII VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

with Nicuesa, to avoid that captain, for the heavens foretold 
he was destined to be lost. The same, however," he concludes, 
"might be said of Alonzo de Ojeda, who sailed at the same 
time, yet returned to San Domingo and died in his bed." * 



* Las Casas, ut sup. c. 68. 



YAI^CO NVI^K/i Dt: BALnOA. yy 



VASCO NUNEZ DE BALBOA, 

UmcOVERER OF THE PACIFIC OCEAN. 



CHAPTER I. 

FACTIONS AT DARIEN— VASCO NUNEZ ELECTED TO THE COMMAND. 

We have traced the disastrous fortunes of Alonzo de Ojeda 
and Diego de Nicuesa ; we have now to record the story of 
Vasco Nuiiez ,le Balboa, an adventurer equally daring, far 
more renowned, and not less unfortunate, who, in a manner, 
rose upon then- ruins. 

When the bark disappeared from view which bore the Ul- 
starred Nicuesa from the shores of Darien, the community 
relapsed into factions, as to who shoiild have the rule. The 
Bachelor Enciso insisted upon liis claims as paramount, but he 
met with a powerful opponent in Vasco Nuiiez, who had be- 
come a great favoui^ite with the people, from his frank and 
fearless character, and his winning affability. In fact, he was 
peculiarly calculated to manage the fiery and factious, yet 
generous and susceptible nature of his countrymen; for the 
Spaniards, though proud and resentful, and impatient of indig- 
nity or restraint, are easily dazzled by valour, and won by 
courtesy and kindness. Vasco Nuiiez had the external re- 
quisites also to captivate the multitude. He was now about 
thirty-five years of age ; taU, well formed, and vigorous, with 
reddish hau', and an open prepossessing countenance. His 
office of Alcalde, while it clothed him with influence and un, 
portance, tempered those irregular and dissolute habits ha 
might have indvdged while a mere soldier of fortune ; and hig 
superior talent soon gave him a complete ascendancy over his 
official colleague Zamudio. He was thus enabled to set on foot 
a vigorous opposition to Enciso. Still he proceeded according 
to the forms of law, and summoned the Bachelor to trial, on 



100 SPANISH VOVAaKS OF DISCOVERY. 

the charge of usurping the powers of Alcalde Mayor, on the 
mere appomtment of Alonzo de Ojeda, whose jurisdiction did 
not extend to this province. 

Enciso was an able lawyer, and pleaded his cause skilfully ; 
but his claims were, in fact, fallacious, and, had they not been 
so, he had to deal -with men who cared little for law, who had 
been iiritated by his legal exactions, and who were disposed to 
be governed by a man of the sword leather than of the robe. 
He was readily found guilty, therefore, and thrown into 
prison, and all his property was confiscated. This was a vio- 
lent verdict, and rashly executed ; but justice seemed to grow 
fierce and -wild when transplanted to the w^ilderness of the new 
world. Still there is no place where wrong can be committed 
with impunity ; the oppression of the Bachelor Enciso, though 
exercised under the forms of law, and in a region remote from 
the pale of civilized life, redounded to the eventual injury of 
Vasco Nuiiez, and contributed to blast the fruits of that ambi- 
tion it Avas intended to jji-omote. 

The fortimes of the enterprising Bachelor had indeed lam 
strangely counter to the prospects with which he had embarked 
at San Domingo ; he had become a culprit at the bar instead of 
a judge upon the bench ; and now was left to runmiate in a 
prison on the failure of his late attempt at general command. 
His friends, ho^.vever, interceded waraily in his behalf, and at 
length obtained his release from confinement, and permission 
for him to return to Spain. Vasco ISIuiiez foresaw that the 
lawyer would be apt to plead his cause more effectually at the 
court of Castile than he had done before the partial and pre- 
judiced tribunal of Darien. He prevailed upon his fellow 
Alcalde Zamudio, therefore, who was implicated with him in 
the late transactions, to return to Spain in the same vessel 
with the Bachelor, so as to be on the spot to answer his 
charges, and to give a favourable report of the case. He was 
also instructed to set forth the services of Vasco Nunez, both 
in guiding the colonists to this jDlace, and in managing the 
aflairs of the settlement ; and to dwell with emphasis on the 
symptoms of great riches in the surrounding country. 

The Bachelor and the Alcalde embarked in a small caravel ; 
and, as it was to touch at Hispaniola, Vasco Nunez sent his 
confidential friend, the Regidor Valdivia, to that island to ob- 
tain provisions and recruits. He secretly put into his hands a 
round sum of gold as a present to Miguel de Pasamonte, the 
royal treasurer of Hippaniola, whom he knew to have great 



VA8C0 NV:5lEZ BE BALBOA. 101 

credit with the king, and to be invested with extensive powers, 
craving at the same time his protection in the new world and 
his influence at court. 

Having taken these shrewd precautions, Vasco Nunez saw 
the caravel depart without dismay, though bearing to Spain 
his most dangerous enemy; he consoled himself, moreovei-, 
with the reflection that it likewise bore off his fellow Alcalde, 
Zamudio, and thus left him in sole command of the colony. 



CHAPTER II. 



EXPEDITION TO COYBA— VASCO NUNEZ RECEIVES THE DAUGHTER 
OF A CACIQUE AS HOSTAGE. 

Vasco Nunez now exerted liimself to prove his capacity for 
the government to which he had aspired ; and as he knew that 
no proof was more convincing to King Ferdinand than ample 
remittances, and that gold covered all sins in the new world, 
his first object was to discover those parts of the country wMcii 
most abounded in the precious metals. Hearing exaggerated 
reports of the riches of a province about thirty leagues distant, 
called Coyba, he sent Francisco Pizarro with six men to ex- 
plore it. 

The cacique Zemaco, the native lord of Darien, who cher- 
ished a bitter hostility against the European inti-uders, and 
hovered with his warriors about the settlement, received no- 
tice of this detaclunent, from his spies, and planted himself in 
ambush to waylay and destroy it. The Spaniards had scarcely 
proceeded thi-ee leagues along the course of the river when a 
host of savages burst upon them from the suiTOunding thick- 
ets, uttering frightful yells, and discharging showers of stones 
and arrows. Pizarro and his men, though sorely bruised and 
wounded, rushed into the thickest of the foe, slew many, 
wounded more, and put the rest to flight ; but, fearing another 
assault, they made a precipitate retreat, leaving one of their 
companions, Francisco Hernan, disabled on the field. They 
arrived at the settlement crippled and bleeding; but v/hen 
Vasco Nuiiez heard the particulars of the action, his anger 
was roused against Pizarro, and he ordered him, though 
womidcd, to return inunediately and recover the disabled 



102 SPANLSII VOYAUI<:s OF DJWOVERY, 

man. "Let it not be said, for shame/ said he, "that Span- 
iards fled before savages, and left a conj ade in their hands !" 
Pizarro felt the rebuke, returned to the i;cene of combat and 
brought oflL" Francisco Hernan in safety. 

Nothhig having been heard of I>icuesi) since his departure, 
Vasco Nunez despatched two brigantines for those followers oi 
that unfortunate adventurer who had re inained at Nombre de 
Dios. They were overjoyed at being re. ;cued from their for- 
lorn situation, and conveyed to a settlement where there was 
some prospect of comfortable subsistence, Tlie brigantines, in 
coasting the shores of the Istlunus, picked up two Spaniards, 
clad in painted skins and looking as wild as the native In- 
dians. These men, to escape some punishment, had fled from 
the ship of Nicucsa about a year and a half before, and had 
taken refuge with Careta, the cacique of Coyba. The savage 
chieftain had treated them with hospitable kinchiess; their 
first return for which, now that they loimd themselves safe 
among their countrymen, was to advise the latter to invade 
the cacique in his dwelling, where they assured them they 
would find immense booty. Finding their suggestion listened 
to, one of them proceeded to Darien, to serve as a guide to any 
expedition that might be set on foot ; the other returned to the 
cacique, to assist in betraying him. 

Vasco Nunez was elated by the intelligence received through 
these vagabonds of the wilderness. He chose a hundred and 
thirty well armed and resolute men, and set off for Coyba, the 
dominions of Careta. The cacique received the Spaniards in his 
mansion -with the accustomed hospitality of a savage, setting 
before them meat and diink, and whatever his house afforded ; 
but when Vasco NuPez asked for a large sup]^ly of provisions 
for the colony, he declared that he had none to spare, his 
people having been prevented from cultivating the soil by a 
war which he was waging with the neighbouring cacique of 
Ponca. The Spanish traitor, who had remained to betray his 
benefactor, now took Vasco Nunez aside, and assured him that 
the cacique had an abundant hoard of provisions in secret ; he 
advised him, however, to seem to believe his words, and to 
make a protended departure for Darien with his troops, but to 
return in the night and take the village by surprise. Vasco 
Nunez adopted the advice of the traitor. He took a cordial leave 
of Careta, and set off for the settlement. In the dead of the 
night, however, when the savages were buried in deep sleep, 
Vasco Nunez led his men into the midst of the village, and, 



VASCO NUMEZ be BALBOA. 103 

before the inhabitants could rouse themsolves to resistance, 
made captives of Careta, his wives, and children, and many of 
his people. He discovered also the hoard of provisions, with 
which he loaded two brigantines, and returned with his booty 
and his captives to Darien. 

When the unfortunato cacique beheld his family in chains, 
and in the hands of strangers, his heart was wrung with 
despair; "What ha,ve I done to thee," said he to Vasco Nunez, 
"that thou shouldst treat me thus cruelly? None of thy 
people ever came to my land that were not fed and sheltered 
and treated with loving-kindness. When thou earnest to my 
dwelling, did I meet thee with a javelin in my hand? Did I 
not set meat and drink before thee and welcome thee as a 
brother? Set me free, therefore, with my family and people, 
and we wUl remain thy friends. We will supjDly thee with 
provisions, and reveal to thee the riches of the land. Dost thou 
doubt my faith? Behold my daughter, I give her to thee as a 
pledge of friendship. Take her for thy Avife, and be assured of 
the fidelity of her family and her people !" 

Vasco Nuiiez felt the force of these words and knew the im- 
portance of forming a strong alliance among the natives. The 
captive maid, also, as she stood trembhng and dejected before 
him, found great favour in his eyes, for she was young and 
beautiful. He granted, therefore, the prayer of the cacique, 
and accepted his daughter, engaging, moreover, to aid the 
father against liis enemies, on condition of his furnishing pro- 
visions to the coloi.y. 

Careta remamed three days at Darien, during which time he 
was treated with the utmost kindness. Vasco Nuftez took him 
on board of his ships and showed him every part of them. He 
displayed before him also the war-horses, with their armour 
and rich caparisons, and astonished him with the thunder of 
artillery. Lest he should be too nmch daunted by these wai-- 
like spectacles, he caused the musicians to perform a harmoni- 
ous concert on their instruments, at wiiich the cacique was lost 
in admiration. Thus having unpressed liim with a wonderful 
idea of the power and endowments of his new allies, he loaded 
him with presents and permitted him to depart.* 

Careta returned joyfully to his territories, and his daughter 
remained with Vasco Nunez, willingly, for his sake, giving up 
her family and native home. They were never married , but 

* 1'. MiM'tyr, D. 3, c. vj. 



104 SPANh'iH VOYAGES OF DISCO VFJiY. 

she considered herself his wife, as she really was, according to 
the usages of her own country, and he treated her with fond- 
ness, allowing her gradually to acquire great influence over 
him. To his affection for this danjsel his ultimate ruin is in 
some measure to be ascribed. 



CHAPTER III. 

VASCO NUNEZ HEARS OF A SEA BEYONP THE MOUNTAINS. 

Vasco Nunez kept his word with the father of his Indian 
beauty. Taking with hun eighty men and his companion-in- 
arms, Rodrigo Enriquez de Colmenai'es, he repaired by sea to 
Coyba, the province of the cacique. Here landing, he invaded 
the territories of Ponca, the great adversary of Careta, and 
obliged him to take refuge in the mountains. He then ravaged 
his lands and sacked his villages, in which he found consider- 
able booty. Returning to Coyba, where he was jojnEully enter- 
tained by Careta, he next made a friendly visit to the adjacent 
pro\'ince of Coinagre, which was under the sway of a cacique 
of the same name, who had 3,000 fighting men at his command. 

This province was situated at the foot of a lofty mountain in 
a beautiful plain twelve leagues in extent. On the approach of 
Vasco Nuiiez, the cacique came forth to meet him attended by 
seven sons, all fine young men, the offspring of his various 
wives. He was folloAved by his principal chiefs and warriors, 
and by a multitude of his people. The Spaniards were con- 
ducted with great ceremony to the village, where quarters were 
assigned them, and they were furnished with abundance of 
provisions, and men and women were appointed to attend upon 
them. 

The dwelhng of the cacique surpassed any they had yet seen 
for magnitude and for the slcill and solidity of the architecture. 
It was one hundred and fifty paces in length, and eighty in 
breadth, founded upon great logs surrounded with a stone 
wall ; while the upper part was of wood-work, curiously inter- 
woven and wrought with such beauty, as to fill the Spaniards 
with surprise and admiration. It contained many commodious 
apartments. There were store-rooms also; orui filled witii 
bread, with venison, and other provisions; another with 
various sjnrituous bevei-ages which the Indians made from 



Kl.s'6'0 NUf^KZ 1)K BALBOA. lOf, 

maize, from a species of the palm, and from roots of different 
kinds. There was also a great hall in a retired and secret part 
of the building, wherein Comagre preserved the bodies of his 
ancestors and relatives. These had been dried by the fire, so as 
to free them from corruption, and afterwards wrapped in man- 
tles of cotton richly wrought and interwoven with pearls and 
jewels of gold, and -svith certain stones held precious by the 
natives. They were then hung about the hall with cords of 
cotton, and regarded with great reverence, if not a species oi 
rehgious devotion. .. 

Among the sons of the cacique, the eldest was of a lofty and 
generous spiiit, and distinguished above the rest by liis supe- 
rior inteUigence and sagacity. Perceiving, says old Peter 
Martyr, that the Spaniards were a ' ' wandering kind of men, 
living only by shifts and spoil, " he sought to gain favour for 
himself and family by gratifying their avarice. He gave 
Vasco Nuiiez and Colmenares, therefore, 4,000 ounces of gold, 
wrought into various ornaments, together with sixty slaves, 
being captives that he had taken in the wars. Vasco Nuiiez 
ordered one-fifth of the gold to be weighed out and set apart 
for the crown, and the rest to be shared among his fol- 
lowers. 

The division of the gold took place in the porch of the dwell- 
ing of Comagre, in the presence of the youthful cacique who 
had made the gift. As the Spaniards were weighing it out, a 
violent quarrel arose among them as to the size and value of 
the pieces which fell to their respective shares. The high- 
minded savage was disgusted at this sordid brawl among 
beings whom he had regarded with such reverence. In the 
first impulse of his disdain, he struck the scales with his fist 
and scattered the glittering gold about the porch. Before the 
Spaniards could recover from their astonishment at this sud- 
den act, he thus addressed them, "Why should you quarrel 
for such a trifle? If this gold is indeed so precious in your 
eyes that for it alone you abandon your homes, invade the 
peaceful land of others, and expose yourselves to such suffer- 
ings and perils, I will tell you of a i-egion where you may 
gratify your wishes to the utmost. Behold those lofty moun- 
tains," continued he, pointing to the south. "Beyond these 
lies a mighty sea, which may be discerned from theii- summit. 
It is navigated by people who have vessels almost as largo as 
yours, and furnished, like them, with sails and oars. All the 
streams which flow down the southern side of those mountains 



106 SPANISH VOYAG/'JS OF J)ISCOVtliY. 

into that sea abound in gold, and the kings who reign upon its 
borders cat and drink out of golden vessels. Gold, in iact, is 
as plentiful and common among those people of the south as 
iron is among you Spaniards." 

Struck with this intelligence, Vasco Nufiez inquired eagerly 
as to the means of peneti-ating to this sea and to the opidt nt 
regions on its shores. "The task," replied the prince, "is 
difficidt and dangerous. You must pass thi-ough the tenito- 
ries of many poAverful caciques, who will oppose you with hosts 
of warriors. Some parts of the mountains are mfested by 
fierce and ciniel cannibals — a wandering, lawless race; but, 
above all, you will have to encounter the great cacique, Tuba- 
nama, whose territories are at the distance of six days' jour- 
ney, and more rich in gold than any other province; this 
cacique ^vill be sure to come forth against jou with a mighty 
force. To accomphsh your enterprise, therefore, will requii-e 
at least a thousand men armed like those who follow you. " 

The youthful cacique gave him further information on the 
subject, collected from various captives whom he had taken in 
battle, and from one of his own nation, who had been for a 
long time in captivitj' to Tubanama, the powerful cacique of 
the golden realm. The prince, moreover, offered to prove the 
sincerity of his words by accompanying Vasco Nunez in any 
expedition to those parts at the head of his father's warriors. 

Such was the first intimation received by Vasco Nuiiez of the 
P:~icific Ocean and its golden realms, and it had an mimediate 
effect upon his whole character and conduct. This hitherto 
wandering and desperate man had now an enterprise opened 
to his ambition, which, if accomphshed, woiUd elevate him to 
- fame and fortune, and entitle him to rank among the great 
captains and discoverers of the earth. Hencefoi'th the discov- 
ery of the sea beyond the mountains was the great object of 
his thoughts, and his whole spirit seemed roused and ennobled 
by the idea. 

He hastened his return to Darien, to make the necessary- 
preparations for this splendid enterprise. Before departing 
from the province of Comagre he baptized that cacique by tb.o 
name of Don Carlos, and performed the same ceremonj'' upon 
his sons and several of his subjects ; — thus singularly did ava- 
rice and religion go hand in hand in the conduct of the Spanish 
discoveicrs. , 

Scarcelv had Vasco Nufiez returned to Darien when the 
Regidor Valdivia arrived thc^re from Hispaniola, but with no 



VASCO NUSSZ DE BALBOA. ' 107 

more provisions than could be brought in his small caravel. 
These were soon consumed, and the general scarcity continued. 
It was heightened also by a violent tempest of thunder, light- 
ning, and rain, which brought such torrents from the moun- 
tains that the river swelled and overflowed its banks, laying 
waste all the adjacent fields that had been cultivated. In this 
extremity Vasco Nuiiez despatched Valdivia a second time to 
Hispaniola for provisions. Animated also by the loftier views 
of his present ambition, he wrote to Don Diego Columbus, who 
governed at San Domingo, informing him of the intelligence 
he had received of a great sea and opulent realms beyond the 
mountains, and entreating him to use his influence with the 
king that one thousand men might be immediately furnished 
him for the prosecution of so grand a discovery. He sent him 
also the amount of fifteen thousand crowns in gold, to be re- 
mitted to the king as the royal fifths of what had ah-eady been 
collected under his jurisdiction. Many of his followers, also, 
forwarded sums of gold to be remitted to their creditors in 
Spain. In the mean time, Vasco Nuilez prayed the admiral to 
yield him prompt succour to enable him to keep his footing in 
the land, representing the difficulty he had in maintaining, 
with a mere handful of m.en, so vast a country in a state of 
aiibjection. 



CHAPTEE IV. 



EXPEDITION OF VASCO NUNEZ IN QUEST OP THE GOLDEN TEJIPLE 
OP DOBAYBA. — (1513.) 

While Vasco Nunez awaited the rcsult of this mission of 
Valdivia, his active disposition prompted him to undertalce 
foi-aging excursions into the surrounding country. 

Among various nunours of golden realms in the interior of 
this imknown land, was one concerning a province called Do- 
bayba, situated about forty leagues distant, on the banks of a 
great river which emptied itself, by several mouths, into a 
comer of the Gulf of Uraba. 

This province derived its name, according to Indian tradi- 
tion, from a mighty female of the olden time, the mother of 
the god who created the sun and moon and all good things. 
She had power over the elements, sending thunder and light- 



108 SPAmSH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

ning to lay waste the lands of those who displeased her, hut 
showering down fertility and abundance upon the lands of her 
faithful worshippers. Others described her as having been an 
Indian princess who once reigned amongst the mountains of 
Dobayba, and was renowned throughout the land for her 
supernatural power and wisdom. After her death, divine 
honours were paid her, and a great temple was erected for her 
(worship. Hither the natives repaired from far and near, on a 
k'ud of pilgrimage, bearing offerings of their most valuable 
effects. The caciques who ruled over distant territories, also 
sent golden tributes, at certain times of the year, to be de- 
posited in this temple, and slaves to be sacrificed at its shi-ine. 
At one time, it was added, this worship fell into disuse, the 
pilgrimages were discontinued, and the caciques neglected to 
send their tributes ; whereupon the deity, as a punishment, in- 
fii(;ted a drought upon the country. The springs and fountains 
failed, the rivers were dried up ; the inhabitants of the moun- 
tains were obliged to descend into the plains, where they digged 
pits and wells, but these likewise failing, a great part of the 
nations perished with thirst. The remainder hastened to pro- 
pitiate the deity by tributes and sacrifices, and thus succeeded 
in averting her displeasiu-e. In consequence of offerings of 
the kind, made for generations from all parts of the coimtry, 
the temple was said to be filled with treasiu-e, and its walls to 
be covered with golden gifts.* In addition to the tale of this 
temple, the Indians gave marvellous accounts of the general 
Avealth of this province, declaring that it abounded with mines 
of gold, the veins of which reached from the dwelling of the 
ca<^.'ique to the borders of his dominions. 

To penetrate to this territory, and above all to secure the 
treasures of the golden temple, was an enterprise suited to the 
adventurous spirit of the Spaniards. Vasco Nuiiez chose one 
hundred and seventy of his hardiest men for the purpose. 
Embarking them in two brigantines and a number of canoes, 
he set sail from Darien, and, after standing about nine leagues 
to the east, came to the mouth of the Rio Grande de San Juan, 
or the Great River of St. John, also called the Atrato, which is 
since ascertained to be one of the branches of the river Darien. 
Here he detached Rodrigo Enriipiez de Colmenares with one- 
third of his forces to explore the stream, while he himself pi"o- 
cceded with the residue to another branch of the river, which 

♦ P. Martyr, dcoad 3. «•. vi. Idem. d. 7, c. x. 



VASCO NUNEZ BE BALBOA. 109 

he was told flowed from the province of Dobayba, and which 
he ascended, flushed with sanguine expectations.* 

His old enemy, Zemaco, the cacique of Darien, hoAvever, had 
discovered the object of his expedition, and had taken measures 
to disappoint it : repairing to the province of Dobayba, he had 
prevailed upon its cacique to retire at the approach of the 
Spaniards, leaving his country deserted. 

Vasco Nuiiez found a village situated in a marshy neighbour- 
hood, on the banks of the river, and mistook it for the residence 
of the cacique : it was silent and abandoned. There was not an 
Indian to be met with from whom he could obtain any infor- 
mation about the country, or who could guide hmi to the golden 
temple. He was disappointed, also, in his hopes of obtaining a 
supply of provisions, but he found weapons of various kinds 
hanging in the deserted houses, and gathered jewels and pieces 
of gold to the value of seven thousand castellanos. Discour- 
aged by the savage look of the surrounding wilderness, which 
was perplexed by deep morasses, and having no guides to aid 
him in exploring it, he put all the booty he had collected into 
two lai'ge canoes, and made his way back to the Gulf of Uraba. 
Here he was assailed by a violent tempest, which nearly 
wrecked his two brigantines, and obliged him to throw a great 
part of their cargoes overboard. The two canoes containing 
the booty were swallowed up by the raging sea, and all their 
crows perished. 

Thus baffled and tempest-tost, Vasco Nuiiez at length suc- 
ceeded in getting into what was termed the Grand Eiver, 
vrhich he ascended, and rejoined Colmenares and his detach- 
ment. They now extended their excursions up a stream which 
emptied into the Grand Ei i^er, and which, from the dark hue 
of its waters, they called Eio Negro, or the Black Eiver. They 
also explored certain other tributary streams branching from 
it, though not without occasional skirmishes with the natives. 



* In recording this expedition, tlie author has followed the old Spanish narratives, 
written when the face of the country was but "little known, and he was much per- 
plexed to reconcile the accounts given of numerous streams with the rivers laid 
down on modern maps. By a clear and judicious explanation, given In the recent 
work of Don Manuel Josef Quintana, it appeai-s that the different streams explored 
l)y Vasco Nunez and Colmenares were all branches of one grand river, which, de- 
scending from the mountains of the interior, winds about in crystal streams among 
the plains and morasses bordering the bottom of the great gulf of Darien, and dis- 
charges itself by various mouths into the gulf. In fact, the stream which ran by 
the infant city of Santa Maria de la Antigua was but one of its branches, a fact en- 
tirely unknowa to Vasco N u£iez and bis companions. 



110 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY. 

Ascending one of these minor rivers with a part of his men, 
Vasco Nunez came to the territories of a cacique named Abi- 
beyba, who reigned over a I'egion of marshes and shallow lakes. 
The habitations of the natives were built amidst the branches 
of immense and lofty trees. They were large enough to con- 
tain whole family connexions, and were constructed partly of 
wood, partly of a kind of wicker work, combining strength and 
pliability, and yielding unmjured to the motion of the branches 
when agitated by the wind. The inhabitants ascended to 
them with great agility by light ladders, formed of great reeds 
split through the middle, for the reeds on this coast grow to 
the thickness of a man's body. These ladders they drew np 
after them at night, or in case of attack. These habitations 
were well stocked with provisions ; but the fermented bever- 
ages, of which these people had always a supply, were bui'ied 
in vessels in the earth at the foot of the tree, lest they should 
be rendered turbid by the rocking of the houses. Close by, 
cilso, were the canoes with which they navigated the rivers and 
ponds of their marshy country and followed their main occu- 
pation of fishing. 

On the approach of the Spaniards, the Indians took refuge in 
their ti-ee-built castles and drew up the ladders. The former 
called upon them to descend and to fear notliing. Upon this 
the caciqiie replied, entreating that he might not be molested, 
seeing he had done them no injury. They threatened, imless 
he came down, to fell the trees or to set fii'e to them, and burn 
him an<i his wives and cliildrcn. The cacique was disposed to 
consent, but was prevented by the entreaties of his people. 
Upon this the Spaniai'ds prepared to hew down the trees, but. 
Avere assailed by showers of stones. They covered themselves, 
liowever, with their bucklers, assailed the trees vigorously 
with their hatchets, and soon compelled the inhabitants to ca- 
pitulate. The cacique descended with his wife and two of his 
children. The first demand of the Si^aniards was for gold. 
Ke assured them he had none ; for, having no need of it, he had 
never made it an object of his search. jJeing importuned, 
however, he assured them that if he were permitted to repair 
to certain mountains at a distance, he would in a few days re- 
turn and bring them what they desired. They permitted him 
to depart, retaining his Avife and children as hostages, but they 
saw 110 more of the cacique. After remaining here a few days 
and regaling on the provisions which they found in abundance, 
they continued their foragmg expeditions, often opposed by 



VASCO NUMEZ be BALBOA. HI 

the bold and warlike natives, and suffering occasional loss, but 
inflicting great havoc on their opposers. 

Having thus overrun a considerable extent of cc -intry, and 
no gi-and object presenting to lure him on to further enterp ise, 
Vasco Nuriez at length returned to Darien vfitli the spoil:: and 
captives he had taken, leaving Bartolome Hurtado with thii'ty 
men in an Indian village on the Eio Negro, or Black Eiver, to 
hold the country in subjection. Thus terminated the first expe- 
dition in quest of the golden temple Dobayba, which for some 
time continued to be a favourite object of enterprise among the 
adventurers of Darien. 



CHAPTER V. 

DISASTER ON THE BLACK RIVER— INDIAN PLOT AGAINST DARIEN. 

Bartolome Hurtado being left to his own discretion on the 
banks of the Black Eiver, occupied himself occasionally in 
hunting the scattered . natives who straggled about the sur- 
rounding forests. Having in this way picked up twenty-four 
captives, he put them on board of a large canoe, like so much 
live stock, to be transported to Darien and sold as slaves. 
Twenty of his followers who were infirm, either fi'om wounds 
or the diseases of the climate, embarked also in the canoe, so 
that only ten men remained with Hurtado. 

The great canoe, thus heavily freighted, descended the 
Black Eiver slowly, botr/een banks overhung with forests. 
Zemaco, the indefatigable cacique of Darien, was on the watch, 
and waylaid the ark with four canoes filled with warriors 
armed with war clubs, and lances hardened in the fire. The 
Spaniards being sick, could make but feeble resistance ; some 
were massacred, others leaped into the river and A\cre 
drowned. Two only escaped, by clinging to two tiamks ol 
trees that were floating down the river and covermg them- 
selves with the branches. Eeaching the shore in safety, thoy 
returned to Bartolome Hurtado with the tragical tidings of the 
death of his followers. Hurtado was so disheartened by the 
news, and so dismayed at his own helpless situation, in the 
midst of a hostile country, that lie resolved to abandon the 
fatal shores of the Black Eiver and return to Darien. He was 
quickened in this resolution by receiving intimation of a con- 



112 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVKllY. 

spiracy forming among the natives. The implacable Zcmaco 
had drawn four other caciques into a secret plan to assemble 
their vassals and make a sudden attack upon Darien. Hurtado 
hastened with the remnant of his followers to carry tidings to 
the settlement of this conspiracy. Many of the inhabitants 
were alarmed at his intelligence ; others treated it as a false 
rumour oE the Indians, and no preparations Avere made against 
what might be a mere imaginary danger. 

Fortunately for the Spaniards, among the female captives 
owned by Vasco Nuilez was an Indian damsel named Fulvia, 
to whom, in consequence of her beauty, he had shown great 
favour, and who had become strongly attached to him. She 
had a brother among the warriors of Zemaco, who often visited 
her in secret. In one of his visits he informed her that on a 
certain night the settlement would be attacked and every 
Spaniard destroyed. He charged her, therefore, to hide her- 
self that night in a certain place until he should come to her 
aid, lost she should be slain in the confusion of the massacre. 

When her brother was gone a violent struggle took place iu 
the bosom of the Indian girl, between her feeling for her 
family and her people and her affection for Vasco Nunez. The 
latter at length prevailed, and she revealed aU that had been 
told to her. Vasco Nunez prevailed upon her to send for her 
brother under pretence of aiding her to escape. Having him 
in his power, he extorted from him all that he knew of the de- 
signs of the enemy. His confessions showed what imminent 
danger had been lurking: roimd Vasco Nufiez in his most un- 
suspecting moments. The prisoner informed him that he had 
been one of forty Indians sent some time before by the cacique 
Zemaco to Vasco Nuilez, in seeming friendship, to be employed 
by him in cultivating the fields adjacent to the settlement. 
They had secret orders, however, to take an opportunity when 
Vasco Nunez should come forth to inspect their work, to set 
Upon him in an unguarded moment and destroy him. For- 
tunately, Vasco Nunez always ^asited the fields mounted on 
his war horse and armed with lance and target. The Indians 
Were therefore so awed by his martial appearance, and by the 
ternble animal he bestrode, that they dared not attack him. 

Foiled in this and other attempts of the kind, Zemaco re- 
sorted to the conspiracy with the neighbouring caciques with 
which the settlement was menaced. 

Five caciques had joined in the confederacy; they had 
prepared a hundred canoes, had amassed provisions for an 



VASCO IJVSEZ DE BALBOA, 113 

army, and had concerted to assemble five thou^aiid picked 
■warriors at a certain time and place ; with these Lhcy were to 
make an attack on the settlement by land and water in the 
middle of the night and to slaughter evei-y Spaniard. 

Having learnt where the confederate chiefs were to be found, 
and where they had deposited their provisions, Vasco Nuiicz 
chose seventy of his best men, we'l-e^vmed, and made a cii'cuit 
by land, while Cohnenare-s, with sixty men, saUicd forth 
secretly in four canoes guided by the Indian prisoner. In this 
Avay they surprised the p-eueral of the Indian army and several 
of the principal confederates, and got j)OSsession of all their 
provisions, though they failed to capture the formidable Zc- 
maco. The Indian general was shot to death with arrows, and 
the leaders of the conspiracy w^ere hanged in presence of their 
captive followers. The defeat of this deep-laid plan and the 
Dunishment of its devisers, spread terror throughout the neigh- 
bouring provinces and prevented any further attempt at hos- 
tilities. Vasco Nuiiez, however, caused a strong fortress of 
wood to be immediately erected to guai'd against any future 
assaults of the savages. 



CHAPTER VI. 



FURTHER FACTIONS IN THE COLONY— ARROGANCE OF ALONZO 
PEREZ AND THE BACHELOR CORRAL. — (1513.) 

A CONSIDERABLE time had now elapsed since the departui'e of 
Valdivia for Hispaniola, yet no tidings had been received froni 
liim. Many began to fear that some disaster had befallen liim ; 
while others insinuated that it was ]50ssible both he and Za- 
mudio might have neglected the objects of then- mission, and, 
having appropriated to their own use the gold with which they 
had been entrusted, might have abandoned the colony to its 
fate. 

Vasco Nuiiez himself was harassed by these surmises, and 
by the di'ead lest the Bachelor Enciso should succeed in pi'cju- 
dicing the mind of his sovereign against hun. Impatient of 
this state of anxious suspense, he determined to repair to 
Spain to conununicate in person all that he had heard concern- 
ing the Southern Sea, and to ask for the troops necessary for 
its discovery. 



114 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY. 

Every one, however, both friend and foe, exclaimed against 
Buch a measure, representing liis presence as indispensable to 
the safety of the colony, from his groat talents as a commander 
and the fear entertained of him by the Indians, 

After much debate and contention, it was at length agreed 
that Juan de Cayzedo and Rodrigo Enriquez de Colmenares 
should go in his place, mstructed to make tdl necessary repre- 
sentations to the king. Letters were written also containing 
the most extravagant accounts of the riches of the country, 
partly dictated by the sanguine hopes of the writers, and 
partly by the fables of the natives. The rumoured wealth of 
the province of Dobayba and the treasures of its golden temple 
were not forgotten ; and an Indian was taken to Spain by the 
commissioners, a native of the province of Zenu, where gold 
was said to be gathered in nets stretched across the mountain 
streams. To give more Aveight to all these stories, every one 
contributed some portion of gold from his private hoard to be 
presented to the kmg in addition to the amount arising from 
his fifths. 

But little time elapsed after the departure Oi the commis- 
sioners when new dissensions broke out in the colony. It was 
hardly to be expected that a fortuitous assemblage of adven- 
turers could remain long ti'anquil during a time of suffering 
imder rulers of questionable authority. Vasco Nufiez, it is 
true, had risen by his courage and abilities ; but he bad risen 
from among their ranks; he was, in a manner, of their own 
creation; and they had not become sufficiently accustomed to 
him as a governor to forget that he was recently but a more 
soldier of fortune and an absconding debtor. 

Tlieir factious discontent, however, was directed at fiict 
against a favourite of Vasco Nuiiez, rather than against him- 
self. He had invested Bartolome Hurtado, the commiuidoi' of 
the Black River, with considerable authority m the colon 7, 
and the latter gave great offence by his oppressive conducr. 
Hiu-tado had particularly aggrieved by his arrogance one 
Alonzo Perez do la Rua, a touchy cavalier, jealous of his 
honour, who seems to have peculiarly possessed the sensitive 
punctilio of a Spaniard. Firing at some indignity, whether 
real or fancied, Alonzo Perez throw himself into the ranks of 
tiio disaffected, and was immediately chosen as their leader. 
Thus backed by a faction, he clamoured loudly for the punish- 
ment of Hurtado; and, finding his demands unattended to, 
threw out threats of deposing Vasco Nufiez. The latter no 



VASCO NVS'EZ DE BALBOA. 115 

sooner heard of these menaces, than, with his usual spirit and 
promptness, he seized upon the testy Alonzo Perez and threw 
him in prison to digest his indignities and cool his passions at 
leisure. 

The conspirators fle^.Y to arms to liberate their leader. The 
friends of Vasco Nuiiez were equaUy on the alert. The two 
parties drew out in battle array in the public square, and a 
sanguinary conflict was on the point of taking place. Fortu- 
nately there were some cool heads left in the colony. These 
interfered at the critical moment, representing to the angry 
adversaries that if they fought among themselves, and dimin- 
ished their already scanty nimibors, even the conquerors must 
eventually faU a prey to the Indians. 

Their remonstrances had effect. A parley ensued, and, after 
much noisy debate, a kind of compromise was made, iilonzo 
Perez was liberated, and the mutineers dispersed quietly to 
their homes. The next day, however, they were again in 
arms, and seized upon Bartolome Hurtado; but after a little 
while were prevailed upon to set liim free. Their factious 
views seemed turned to a higher object. They broke forth 
into loud murmurs against Vasco Nuiiez, complaining that he 
had not made a fair division of the gold and slaves taken in 
the late expeditions, and threatening to arrest him and bring 
him to account. Above all, th.ey clamoured for an immediate 
distribution of ten thousand casteUanos in gold, which yet re- 
mained unshared. 

Vasco Nuiiez understood too weU the riotous nature of the 
people under him, and his own precarious hold on their obe- 
dience, to attempt to cope with them in this moment of turbu- 
lence. He shi'ewdly determined, therefore, to withdraw from 
the sight of the multitude, and to leave them to divide the 
spoil among themselves, trusting to their own strife for his 
security. That very night he sallied forth into the country, 
under pretence of going on a hunting expedition. 

The next morning the mutineers found themselves ia pos- 
session of the field. Alonzo Perez, the pragmatical ringleader, 
immediately assumed the command, seconded by the Bachelor 
Corral. Their first measure was to seize upon the ten thou- 
sand casteUanos, and to divide them among the mvdtitude, by 
way of securing their own popularity. The event proved the 
sagacity and foi'oth ought of Vasco Nuucz. 'Scarcely had these 
hot-headed intermcddlers entered upon the pca-tition of the 
[j-old, than a furious strife arose. Every one vvay dissatisfied 



116 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

with his share, considering his merits entitled to pecuhar reo 
ompcnse. Every attempt to appease the rabble only aug- 
mented their violence, and in theh* rage they swore that Vasco 
Nunez had always shown more judgment and discrimination 
in his distributions to men of merit. 

The adherents of the latter now ventured to lift up their 
voices ; ' ' Vasco Nunez, " said they, ' ' won the gold by his en- 
terprise and valour, and would have shared it with the brave 
and the deserving ; but these men have seized upon it by fac- 
tious means, and would squander it upon their minions." The 
multitude, who, in fact, admired the soldier-like qualities of 
Vasco Nuiloz, displayed one of the customary reverses of pop- 
ular feeling. The touchy Alonzo Perez, his coadjutor the 
Bachelor Corral, and several other of the ringleadei'S were 
seized, thrown in irons, and confined in the fortress; and 
Vasco Nunez was recalled -svith loud acclamations to the settle^ 
ment. 

How long this pseudo commander might have been able to 
manage the unsteady populace it is impossible to say, but just 
at this junctm-e two ships arrived from Hispaniola, freighted 
with supplies, and bringing a reinforcement of one hvmdred 
and fifty men. Tliey brought also a commission to Vasco 
Nu.uoz, signed by Miguel de Pasamonte, the royal treasurer of 
Hispaniola, to whom he had sent a private present of gold, 
constituting him captain-general of the colony. It is doubtful 
whether Pasamonte possessed the power to confer such a com- 
mission, though it is affirmed that the king had clothed him 
with it, as a kind of check upon the authority of the admiral 
Don Diego Columbus, then Governor of Hispaniola, of whose 
extensive sway in the new world the monarch was secretly 
jealous. At any rate the treasurer appears to have acted in 
full confidence of the ultimate approbation of his sovereign. 

Vasco Nunez was rejoiced at receiving a commission which 
clothed him with at least the semblance of royal sanction. 
Feeling more assured in his situation, and being naturally of a 
generous and forgiving temper, he was easily prevailed upon, 
in his moment of exultation, to release and pardon Alonzo 
Perez, the Bachelor Corral, and the other ringleaders of the 
late commotions, and for a time the feuds and factions of this 
petty community were lulled to repose. 



FAbvO NU^EZ DE BALBOA. 117 



CHAPTER VII. 

VASCO NUNEZ DETERMINES TO SEEK THE SEA BEYOND THE 
MOUNTAINS. — (] 513.) 

The temporary triumph of Vasco Nunez was soon overcast 
by tidings received from Spain. His late colleague, the Alcalde 
Zamudio, wrote him word that the Bachelor Enciso had car- 
ried his complaints to the foot of the throne, and succeeded in 
rousmg the indignation of the king, and had obtained a sen- 
tence in his favour, condemning Vasco Nufiez in costs and 
damages. Zamudio informed him in addition, that he would 
be immediately summoned to repair to Spain, and answer in 
person the criminal charges advanced against hiin on account 
of the harsh treatment and probable death of the unfortunate 
Nicuesa. 

Vasco Nuiiez was at first stunned by this intelligence, which 
seemed at one blow to annihUace ail his hopes and fortunes. 
He was a man, however, of prompt decision and intrepid 
spii-it. The information received from Spain was private and 
informal, no order had yet ai'rived from the king, he was still 
master of his actions, and had control over the colony. One 
brilliant achievement might atone for aU the past, and fix him 
in the favour of the monarch. Such an achievement was 
within his reach — the discovery of the southern sea. It is true, 
a thousand soldiers had been required for the expedition, but 
•were ho to wait for their ariival from Spain, his day of grace 
would be past. It was a desperate thing to undertake the task 
with the handful of men at his command, but the circum- 
stances of the case were desperate. Fame, fortune, life itself, 
depended upon the successful and the prompt execution of the 
enterprise. To linger was to be lost. 

Vasco Nuiiez looked round upon the crew of daring and 
reckless adventurers that formed the colony, and cbose one 
hundred and ninety of the most resolute and vigorous, and of 
those most devoted to his person. These he armed with swords, 
targets, cross-bows, and arquebusses. He did not conceal 
from them the peril of the enterprise into which he was about 
to lead them ; but the spirit of those Spanish adventurers was 
always roused by the idea of perilous and extravagant exploit. 
To aid his slender forces, he took with him a number of blocd- 



118 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY. 

hounds, which had been found to ho terrific allies in Indian 
warfare. 

The Spanish writers make particular mention of one of those 
animals, named Leoncico, which was a constant companion, 
and, as it were, body-guard of Vasco Nunez, and describe him 
as minutely as they would a favourite warrior. He was of a 
middle size, but immensely strong: of a dull yellow or reddish 
colour, with a black muzzle, and his body was scarred all over 
with wounds received in innumerable battles with the Indians. 
Vasco Nunez always took him on his expeditions, and some- 
times lent him to others, receiving for his services the same 
share of booty allotted to an armed man. In this way he 
gained by him. in the course of Ms campaigns, upwards of a 
thousand crowns. The Indians, it is said, had conceived such 
terror of this animal, that the very sight of him was sufficient 
to put a host of them to flight.* 

In addition to these forces, Vasco Nunez took with him a 
number of the Indians of Darien, whom he had won to him by 
kindness, and whose services were impoi-tant, from their 
knowledge of the wilderness, and of the habits and resources 
Oi savage life. Such was the motley armament that set forth 
from the little colony of Darien, under the guidance of a dar- 
ing, if not desperate commander, in quest of the great Pacific 
Ocean, 



CHAPTER VIII. 

EXPEDITION IN QUEST OF THE SOUTHERN SEA. 

It was on the first of September that Vasco Nuiiez embarked 
with his followers in a brigantine and nine large canoes or 
pirogues, followed by the cheers and good wishes of those who 
remained at the settlement. Standing to the north-westward, 
he arri^'ed without accident at Coyba, the dominions of the 
caciijue Careta, whose daughter he had received as a pledge of 
amity. That Indian beauty had acquired a great influence 
ovoi- Vasco Nunez, and appears to have cemented his friend- 
ship with her i"athcr and her people. Ho was received by the 
cacique with open arms, and furnished with guides and war- 
riors to aid him in liis enterprise. 

* Oviedo, Hist. Indies, p. 2, c. 3, MS. 



VASGO NUNMZ BE BALBOA. \\Q 

Vasco Nunez left about half of his men at Coyba to guard 
the brigantine and canoes, while he should penetrate the wil- 
derness with the residue. The importance«of this present ex- 
pedition, not merely as affecting his own fortunes, but a& it 
were unfolding a mighty secret of nature, seems to have im- 
pressed itself upon his spirit, and to have given corresponding 
solemnity to his conduct. Before setting out upon his march, 
he caused mass to be performed, and offered up prayers to God 
for the success of his perilous undertaking. 

It was on the sixth of September that he struck off for the 
mountains. The march was difficult and toilsome in the ex- 
treme. The Spaniards, encumbered with the weight of their 
armour and weapons, and oppressed by the heat of a tropical 
chmate, were obliged to climb rocky precipices, and to struggle 
through close and tangled forests. Their Indisrn allies aided 
them by carrying their ammunition and provisions, and by 
guiding them to the most practicable paths. 

On the eighth of September they arrived at the village of 
Ponca, the ancient enemy of Careta. The vUlage was. lifeless 
and abandoned; the cacique and his people had fled to the 
fastnesses of the mountains. The Spaniards remained here 
several days to recruit the health of some of theii' number who 
had fallen ill. It was necessary also to procure guides ac- 
quainted with the mountain wilderness they were approaching. 
The retreat of Ponca was at length discovered, and he was pre- 
vailed upon, though reluctantly, to come to Vasco Nuiioz. The 
latter had a peculiar facility in wmning the confidence and 
friendship of the natives. The cacique was soon so captivated 
by his kindness, that he revealed to Mm. in secret all he knew 
of the natural riches of the country. He assured him of the 
truth of what had been told him abo. i. a great pechry or sea 
beyond the mountains, and gav^ him several ornaments inge- 
niously wrought of fine gold, which had been brought fron? 
the countries upon its borders. He told him, moreover, that 
when he had attained the sumnut of a lofty ridge, to which he 
pointed, and which seemed to rise up to the skies, he would 
behold that sea spread out far below him. 

Arunated by the accounts, Vasco Nuiiez procured fresh 
guides from the cacique, and prepared to ascend the nioim- 
tains. Numbers of his m^^n having fallen ill from fatigue and 
the heat of the climate, he ordered them to return slowly to 
C jyb 1, taking with hin . none but such as were in robust and 
Vip-oi-'juo hc-ilth. 



120 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

On the 20th of September, he again set forward through a 
broken rocky country, covered with a matted forest, and inter- 
sected by deep and turbident streams, many of which it was 
necessary to cross upon rafts. 

So toUsome was the journey, that in four days they did not 
advance above ten leagues, and in the mean time they suffered 
excessively from hunger. At the end of this time they arrived 
at the province of a AvarUke cacique, named Quaraqua, who 
was at war with Ponca. 

Hearing that a band of strangers were entering his terri- 
tories, guided by the subjects of his inveterate foe, the cacique 
took the field with a large number of warriors, some armed 
Avith bows and arrows, others with long spears, or with double- 
handed maces of palm- wood, almost as heavy and hard as iron. 
Seeing the inconsiderable niunber of the Spaniards, they set 
upon them with furious yells, thinking to overcome them in 
an instant. The first discharge of fire-arms, however, struck 
them with dismay. They thought they were contending with 
demons who vomited forth thunder and lightning, especially 
when they saw their companions fall bleeding and dead beside 
them, without receivmg any apparent blow. They took to 
headlong flight, and were hotly pursued by the Spaniards and 
their bloodhounds. Some were transfixed with lances, others 
hewn down with swords, and many were torn to pieces by the 
dogs, so that Quaraqua and six hundi-ed of his warriors were 
left dead upon the field. 

A brother of the cacique and several chiefs were taken pris- 
oners. They were clad in robes of white cotton. Either from 
their effeminate dress, or from the accusations of their ene- 
mies, the Spaniai-ds were induced to consider them guilty of 
unnatural crimes, and, in their abhorrence and disgust, gave 
them to be torn to pieces by the bloodhounds.* 

It is also affirined, that among the prisoners were several ne- 
groes, who had been slaves to the cacique. The Spaniards, we 
are told, were informed by the other captives, that these black 
men came from a region at no great distance, where there was 
a people of that coloiu* with whom they were frequently at 
war. "These," adds the Spanish writer, "were the first ne- 
groes ever found in the New World, and I believe no others 
have since been discovered.''! 



* Herrera. Hist. Ind. d. 1, 1. x. c. 1. 

+ Peter Martyr, in his third Decade, makes mention of these negroes in the fol' 



VASCO NUMeZ be BALBOA. 121 

After this sanguinary triumph, the Spaniards marched to 
the village of Quaraqua, where they found considerable booty 
in gold and jewels. Of this Vasco Nunez reserved one- fifth for 
the crown, and shared the rest liberally among liis followers. 
The vOlage was at the foot of the last mountain that remahied 
for them to climb ; several of the Spaniards, however, were so 
disabled by the wounds they had received in battle, or so ex- 
hausted by the fatigue and hunger they had endured, that they 
were unable to proceed. They were obliged, therefore, reluc- 
tantly to remain in the village, within sight of the mountain- 
top that commanded the long-sought prospect. Vasco Nufiez 
selected fresh guides from among his prisoners, who were na- 
tives of the province, and sent back the subjects of Ponca. Of 
the band of Spaniards who had set out with him in this enter- 
prise, sixty-seven alone remained in sufficient health and 
spirits for this last effort. These he ordered to retire early to 
repose, that they might be ready to set off at the cool and fresh 
hour of day -break, so as to reach the summit of the mountain 
before the noon-tide heat. 



CHAPTER IX. 

DISCOVERY OF THE PACIFIC OCEAN. 

The day had scarcely dawned, when Vasco Nunez and his 
followers set forth from the Indian village and began to climb 
the height. It was a severe and rugged toil for men so way- 
worn, but they were filled with new ardour at the idea of the 
triumphant scene that was so soon to repay them for all their 
hardships. 

About ten o'clock in the morning they emerged from the 
thick forests through which they had hitherto struggled, and 
arrived at a lofty and airy region of the mountain. The bald 

lowing words:—" About two days' journey distant fioni Quaraqua is a region in- 
habited only by black Moors, exceeding fierce and cruel. It is supposed that in 
time past certain black Moors sailed thither out of Ethiopia, to rob. and that by 
sliipwreck, or some other chance, they were di-iven to these mountains." As Mar- 
tyr lived and v.'rote at the time, he of course related the mere rumour of the day, 
which all subsequent accounts have disproved. The other historians who men- 
tioned the circumstance, have probal)ly repeated it from hira. It mubt have ri.sen 
from some misrcpiesentation, and is not entitled to credit. 



:^22 i^PANISn VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

summit alone remained to be ascended, and their guides 
})oirited to a moderate eminence from which they said the 
southern sea was visible. 

Upon tins Vasco Nunez commanded his followers to halt, 
and that no man should stir from his place. Then, with a 
palpitating heart, he ascended alone the bare mountain-top. 
On reaching the summit the long desired prospect burst uj *on 
his view. It was as if a new world were unfolded to hun, 
separated from all hitherto known by this mighty baiTier of 
mountains. Below him extended a vast chaos of rock and 
forest, and green savannahs and wandering streams, while at 
a distance the waters of the promised ocean glittered in the 
morning sun. 

At this gloriovis prospect Vasco Nunez sank upon his knees, 
and poured out thanks to God for being the first European to 
whom it was given to make that gi-eat discovery. He then 
called his people to ascend: "Behold, my friends," said he, 
"that glorious sight which we have so much desired. Let us 
give thanks to God that he has granted us this great honour 
and advantage. Let us pray to him that he will guide and aid 
us to conquer the sea and land which we have discovered, and 
in which Christian has never entered to preach the holy doc- 
trine of the Evangelists. As to yourselves, be as you have 
hitherto been, faithful and true to me, and by the favour of 
Christ you will become the richest Spaniards that have ever 
come to the Indies ; you will render the greatest sei-vices to 
your king that ever vassal rendered to his lord ; and you will 
have the eternal glory and advantage of all that is here dis- 
covered, conquered, and converted to our holy Catholic faith." 

The Spaniards answered this speech by embracing Vasco 
Nufiez and promismg to follow liim to death. Among them 
was a priest, named Andres de A^ara, wlio lifted up his voice 
and chanted Tc Drum laudamus — the usual anthem of Spanish 
discoverers. The people, kneeling down, joined in the strain 
with pious enthusia;5ni and tears of joy ; and never did a more 
sincere oblation rise to the Deity from a sanctified altar than 
from that wild mountain summit. It was indeed one of the 
most sublime discoveries that had yet been made in the New 
World, and must have opened a boundless field of conjecture 
to the wondering Spaniards. The imagination delights to pic- 
ture forth the splendid confusion of their thoughts. Was this 
the great Indian Ocean, studded with precious islands, abound- 
ing in gold, in gems, and spices, and bordered by the gorgeous 



VASC'O NUNEZ DE BALBOA. 123 

cities and wealthy marts of the East? Or was it some lonely 
sea locked up in the embraces of savage uncultivated conti- 
nents, and never traversed by a bark, excepting the light 
pirogue of the Indian? The latter could hardly be the case, 
for the natives had told the Spaniards of golden realms, and 
populous and powerful and luxurious nations upon its shores. 
Perhaps it might be bordered by various people, civihzed in 
fact, but differing from Europe in their civilization ; who might 
have pecuhar laws and customs and arts and sciences; who 
might form, as it were, a world of their own, interconununing 
by this mighty sea, and carrying on commerce between their 
own islands and continents ; but who might exist in total igno- 
rance and independence of the other hemisphere. 

Such may naturally have been the ideas suggested by the 
sight of this unknown ocean. It was the ]Dreva?ent belief of 
the Spaniards, however, that they were the first Christians 
who had made the discovery. Yasco Nuiiez, therefore, called 
upon all present to witness that he took possession of that sea. 
its islands, and surrounding lands, in the name of the sov- 
ereigns of Castile, and the notary of the expedition made a 
testimonial of the same, to which all present, to the number of 
sixty-seven men, signed their names. He then ciused a fair 
and tall tree to be cut down and wrought into a (iross, which 
was elevated on the spot from whence he had at first beheld 
the sea. A mound of stones was likewise piled up to serve as 
a monument, and the names of the Castdian sovereigns were 
carved on the neighbouring trees. The Indians beh'pld aU these 
ceremonials and rejoicings in sUent wonder, and, •vhile they 
aided to erect the cross and pile up the mound cf stones, 
marvelled exceedingly at the meaning of these monuments, 
little thinking that they marked the subjugation of the-'r land. 

The memorable event here recorded took place on th<3 2Gth 
of September, 1513; so that the Spaniards had been twenty 
days performing the journey from the province of Careta to 
the summit of the mountain, a distance which at present, it is 
said, does not require more than six days' travel. Indeed the 
isthmus in this neighbourhood is not more than eighteen 
leagues in breadth in its widest part, and in some places 
merely seven ; but it consists of a ridge of extremely high and 
rugged mountains. When the discoverers traversed it, they 
had no route but the Indian paths, and often had to force their 
way amidst all kinds of obstacles, both from the savnge 
country and its savage inhabitants. In fact., the details of 



124 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY. 

this narrative suflHciently account for the slowness of thsii 
progress, and present an array of diflficulties and perils which 
as has been well observed, none but those " men of iron" coul(5 
have subdued and overcome.* 



CHAPTER X. 

VASCO NUNEZ MARCETES TO THE SHORES OF THE SOUTH SEA. 

Having taken possession of the Pacific Ocean and all its 
realms from the summit of the mountain, Vasco Nunez now 
descended with bis little band to seek the regions of reputed 
wealth upon its shores. He had not proceeded far when he 
came to the province of a Avarlike cacique, named Chiapes, 
who, issuing forth at the head of his warriors, looked with 
scorn upon the scanty number of straggling Spaniards, and 
forbade them to set foot within his territories. Vasco Nuiiez 
depended for safety upon his power of striking terror into the 
ignorant savages. Ordering liis arquebusiers to the front, ho 
poured a volley into the enemy, and then let loose the blood- 
hounds. The flash and noise of the fire-arms, and the sul- 
phurous smoke which was carried by the wind among the 
Indians, overwhelmed them -with dismay. Some fell down in 
a panic as though they had been struck by thunderbolts, the 
rest betook themselves to headlong flight. 

Vasco Nuiiez commanded his men to refrain from needless 
slaughtei". He made many prisoners, and on arriving at the 
village, sent some ot them in search of their cacique, accom- 
panied by several of his Indian guide*:. The latter informed 
Chiapes of the supernatural power of the Spaniards, assui-ing 
him that they exterminated with thunder and lightning all 
who dared to oppose them, but loaded all such as submitted 
to them with benefits. They advised him, therefore, to throw 
himself upon their mercy and seek their friendship. 

The cacique listened to their advice, and came trembhng to 
the Spaniards, bringing with him five hundred pounds weight 
ot wrought gold as a peace ofTering, for he had already learnt 
the value they set vipon that metal. Vasco Nuiiez received 

* Vidas de Espanoles C<51cbrcs, por Don Mauuel Josef Quiutana. Tom. ii. p. 40. 



VASCO NVNEZ BE BALBOA. 125 

him with great kindness, and graciously accepted his gold, 
for which he gave him beads, hawks' bells, and looking-glasses, 
making him, in his own conceit, the richest potentate on that 
side of the mountains. 

Friendship being thus established between them, Vasco 
Nuiiez remained at the village for a few days, sending back 
the guides who had accompanied him from Quaraqua, and 
ordering his people, whom he had left at that place, to rejoin 
him. In the mean tune he sent out three scouting parties, of 
twelve men each, under Francisco Pizarro, Juan de Escary, 
and Alonzo Martin de Don Benito, to explore the surrounding 
country and discover the best route to the sea. Alonzo Martin 
was the most successful. After two days' journey he came to 
a beach, where he found two large canoes lying liigh and dry, 
without any water being in sight. While the Spanitirds were 
regarding these canoes, and wondering why they should be so 
far on land, the tide, which rises to a great height on that 
coast, came rapidly in and set them afloat ; upon this, Alon^io 
Martin stopped into one of them, and called his companions to 
bear witness that he was the first European that embarked upon 
that sea ; his example was f ollov/ed by one Bias de Etienza, who 
called them likewise to testify that he was the second.* 

We mention minute particiilai's of the kind as being charac- 
teristic of these extraordinary enterprises, and of the extra- 
ordinary people who undertook them. The humblest of these 
Spanish adventurers seemed actuated by a sweUing and 
ambitious spirit, that rose superior at times to mere sordid 
considerations, and aspired to share the glory of these gi-eat 
discoveries. The scouting party having thus explored a dhect 
route to the sea coast, retui'ned to report theu' success to their 
commander. 

Vasco Nunez being rejoined by his men from Quaraqua, now 
left the greater part of his followers to repose and recover from 
their sickness and fatigues in the village of Chiapes, and, 
taking with him twenty-six Spaniards, well armed, he set ou. 
on the twenty -ninth of September, for the sea coast, accom- 
panied by the cacique and a number of his warriors. The 
thick forest which covered the mountains descended to the 
very margin of the sea, surrounding and overshadowing the 
wide and beautiful bays that penetrated far into the land. 
The whole coast, as far as the eye could reach, was perfectly 

* Herrera, Hist. Ind. d. i. 1. x. c. ^ 



126 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

wild, the sea without a sail, and both seemed never to have 
been under the dominion of civiMzed man. 

Vasco Nufiez arrived on the borders of one of those vast 
bays, to which he gave the name of Saint Michael, it being 
discovered on that saint's day. The tide was out, the water 
was above half a league distant, and the intervening beach 
was covered with mud ; he seated himself, therefore, under the 
shade of the forest trees until the tide should rise. After a 
while the water came rushing in with great impetuosity, and 
soon reached nearly to the place where the Spaniards were 
reposing. Upon this, Vasco Nunez rose and took a banner, on 
which were painted the Virgin and child, and imder them the 
arms of Castile and Leon; then drawing his sword and throw- 
ing liis buckler on his shoulder, he marched into the sea imtil 
the water reached above his knees, and waving his banner, ex- 
claimed, with a loud voice, ' ' Long live the high and mighty 
luonarchs, Don Ferdinand and Donna Juanna, sovereigns of 
Castile, of Leon, and of Ai-ragon, in whose name, and for the 
royal crown of Castile, I take real, and corporal, and actual 
possession of these seas, and lands, and coasts, and ports, and 
islands of the South, and all thereunto annexed; and of the 
kingdoms and provinces which do or may appertain to them 
in whatever manner, or by whatever right or title, ancient or 
modern, in times past, present, or to come, without any con- 
tradiction ; and if other prince or captain, christian or infidel, 
or of any law, sect, or condition whatsoever, shall pretend any 
right to these lands and seas, I am ready and prepared to 
maintain and defend them in the name of the Castilian sov- 
ereigns, present and future, whose is the empire and dominion 
over these Indias, islands, and terra firma, northern and 
southern, with all their seas, both at the arctic and antarctic 
poles, on either side of the equinoxial line, whether within or 
"without the tropics of Cancer and Capricorn, both now and in 
all times, as long as the world endures, and until the final day 
of judgment of all mankind." 

Tliis swelling declaration and defiance being uttered with a 
loud voice, and no one appearing to dispute his pretensions, 
Vasco Nunez called upon his companions to bear witness of the 
fact of his having duly taken possession. They all declared 
themselves ready to defend his claim to the uttermost, as be- 
came true and loyal vassals to the Castilian sovereigns ; and 
the notaiy having drawn up a doQunaent for the occasion, they 
all subscribed it with their names. 



FASCO NUS'EZ BE BALBOA. 127 

This done, they arlvanced to the margin of the sea, and 
stooping down tasted its waters. When they found, that, 
though severed by intervening mountains and continents, they 
were salt hke the seas of the north, they felt assured that 
they had indeed discovered an ocean, and again returned 
thanks to God. 

Having concluded all these ceremonies, Vasco Nuiiez drew a 
dagger from his girdle and cut a cross on a tree which grew 
within the water, and made two other crosses on two adjacent 
trees in honour of the Thi-ee Persons of the Trinity, and in 
token of possession. His followers likewise cut crosses on 
many of the trees of the adjacent forest, and lopped off 
branches with their swords to bear away as trophies. * 

Such was the smgular medley of chivalrous and religious 
ceremonial -svith which these Spanish adventurers took pos- 
session of the vast Pacific Ocean, and all its lands — a scene 
strongly characteristic of the nation and the age. 



CHAPTER -XI. 

ADVENTURES OP VASCO NUWEZ ON THE BORDERS OF THE PACIFIC 

OCEAN. 

While he made the village of Chiapes his headquarters, 
Vasco Nunez foraged T:he adjacent country and obtained a 
considerable quantity of gold from the natives. Encouraged 
by his success, he undertook to explore by sea the borders of a 
neighbouring gidf of gi*eat extent, which penetrated far into 
the land. The cacique Chiapes warned him of the danger of 
venturing to sea in the stormy season, Avhich comprises the 
months of October, November, and December, assuring him 
that he had beheld many canoes swallowed up m the mighty 
waves and whirlpools, which at such times render the gulf 
almost unnavigable. 

These remonstrances were unavailing: Vasco Nuilez ex- 
pressed a confident belief that God would protect him, seeing 
that his voyage was to redound to the propagation of the faith, 



* Many of the foregoing particulars are from the unpublished volume of Oviedo's 
History of the India:). 



128 SPAmsn VOYAGES OF DISCOVF.EY. 

and the augmentation of the power of the Castiliau monarchs 
over the h)fidcls; and in truth this bigoted reUance on the im- 
mediate protection of heaven seems to have been in a gi'eat 
measure the cause of the extravagant daring of the Spaniards 
in their expeditions in those days, whether against Moors or 
Indians. 

Seeing his representations of no effect, Chiapes volunteei-ed 
to take part in this perilous cruise," lest he should appear want- 
ing in courage, or in good-will to his guest. Accompanied 
by the cacique, therefore, Vasco Nunez embarked on the 17th 
of October with sixty of his men in nine canoes, managed by 
Indians, leaving the residue of his foUoAvers to recruit their 
health and strength in the village of Chiapes. 

Scarcely, however, had they put forth on the broad bosom 
of the gulf when the wisdom of the cacique's advice was made 
apparent. The wind began to blow freshly, raising a heavy 
and tumultuous sea, which broke m roaring and foaming 
surges on the rock:3 and reefs, and among the numerous islets 
with which the gxilf Avas studded. The light canoes were 
deeply laden with men unskilled in their management. It was 
frightfvd to those in one canoe to behold their companions, one 
mstant tossed on high on the bi'eaking crest of a wave, the 
next plunging out of sight, as if swallowed in a watery abyss. 
The Indians themselves, though almost amphibious in their 
habits, showed signs of consteiTiation ; for amidst these rocks 
and breakers even the skill of the expert swimmer would be 
of little avail. At length the Indians succeeded in tying the 
canoes in pairs, side by side, to prevent their being overturned, 
and in this way they kept afloat, until towards evening they 
were enabled to reach a small island. Here they landed, and 
fastening the canoes to the rocks, or to small trees that grew 
upon the shore, they sought an elevated dry place, and 
stretched themselves to take repose. They had but escaped 
fi-om one danger to encounter another. Having been for a 
long time accustomed to the sea on the northern side of the 
isthmus, where there is little, if any, rise or fall of the tide, 
they had neglected to take any precaution against such an oc- 
currence. In a little while they were awakened from their 
sleep by the rapid rising of the water. Thej' shifted their sit- 
uation to a higher ground, but the waters continued to gain 
upon them, the breakers rushing and roaring and foaming 
upon the beach like so many monsters of the deep seeking for 
their prey. Nothing, it is said, can be more dismal and ap- 



VA.SCO jS-UNEZ be BALBOA. 129 

palling than the sullen bellowing of the sea among the islands 
of that gulf at the rising and falling of the tide. By degrees, 
rock after rock, and one sand bank after another disappeared, 
until the sea covered the whole island, and rose ahnost to the 
girdles of the Spaniards. Their situation was now agonizing. 
A little more and the waters would overwhelm them ; or, even 
as it was, the least surge might break over them and sweep 
them from tlioir unsteady footing. Fortunately the wind had 
lulled, and the sea, having risen above the rocks which had 
fretted it, was calm. The tide had reached its height and 
began to subside, and after a time they heard the retiring 
waves beating against the rocks below them. 

When the day dawned they sought their canoes ; but here a 
sad spectacle met their eyes. Some were broken to pieces, 
others yawning open in many parts. The clothing and food 
left in them had been washed away, and replaced by sand and 
water. The Spaniards gazed on the scene in mute despair; 
they were faint and weary, and needed food and repose, but 
famine and labour awaited them, even if they should escape 
with their hves. Vasco Nunez, however, rallied theii- spirits, 
and set them an example by his own cheerful exertions. Obey- 
ing his directions, they set to work to repair, in the best man- 
ner they were able, the damages of the canoes. Such as were 
not too much shattered they bound and braced up with their 
girdles, Avith slips of the bark of trees, or with the tough long 
stalks of certain sea-weeds. They then peeled off the bark 
from the small sea plants, pounded it between stones, and mixed 
it with grass, and with this endeavoured to caiuk the seams 
and stop the leaks that remained. When they re-embarked, 
their numbers weighed down the canoes almost to the water's 
edge, and as they rose and sank with the swelling waves there 
was danger of their being swallowed up. All day they laboured 
with the sea, suffering excessively from the pangs of hmiger 
and thirst, and at nightfall they landed in a comer of the gulf, 
near the abode of a cacique named Tumaco. Ijcaving a part of 
his men to guard the canoes, Vasco Nuiiez set out with the 
residue for the Indian town. He arrived there about midnight, 
but the inhabitants were on the alert to defend their habita- 
tions. Tlie fire-arms and dogs soon put them to flight, and the 
Spaniards pursuing them with their SAvords, drove them howl- 
ing into the woods. In the village were found provisions in 
abimdance, beside a considerable amount of gold and a great 
quantity of pearls, many of them of a large size. In the house 



130 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCO VEET. 

of the cacique were several huge shells of mother-of-pearl, and 
four pearl oysters quite fresh, which showed that there was a 
pearl fishei'v in the neighbourhood. Eager to learn the sources 
of this wealth, Vasco Nuiiez sent several of the Indians oi 
Chiapes in search oi' the cacique, who traced him to a wild re- 
treat among the rocks. By their persuasions Tiimaco sent hi3 
son, a fine young savage, as a mediator. The latter returned 
to his father loaded with presents, and extolling the benignity 
of these superhuman beings, who had shown themselves so ter- , 
rible in battle. By these means, and by a mutual exchange of j 
presents, a friendly intercourse was soon established. Among 
other things the cacique gave Vasco Nuiiez jewels of gold 
weighing six hundred and fourteen crowns, and two hundred 
pearls of great size and beauty, excepting that they were some- 
what discoloured in consequence of the oysters having been 
opened by fire. 

The cacique seeing the value which the Spaniards set upon 
the pearls, sent a number of liis men to fish for them at a place 
about ten miles distant. Certain of the Indians were trained 
from their youth to this purpose, so as to become expert divers, 
and to acquire the power of remaining a long time beneath the 
water. The largest pearls are generally found in the deepest 
watei"s, sometimes in three and four fathoms, and are only 
sought in calm weather; the smaller sort are found at the 
depth of two and three feet, and the oysters containing them 
are often driven in quantities on the beach during violent 
storms. 

The party of pearl divers sent by the cacique consisted of 
thirty Indians, with whom Vasco Nuiiez sent six Spaniards as 
eye-witnesses. The sea, however, was so furious at that 
stormy season that the divers dared not venture into the dee]"> 
water. Such a number of the shell-fish, however, had been 
driven on shore, that they collected enough to yield peails to 
the value of tAvelve marks of gold. They were small, but ex- . 
ceedingly beautiful, being newly taken and uninjured by fire. 
A number of these shell-fish and their pearls were selected to 
be sent to Spain as specimens. 

In reply to the inquiries of Vasco Nuiiez, the cacique informed 
liim that the coast which he saw stretching to the west con- 
tinued onwards without end, and that far to the south there 
was a coimtry abounding in gold, where the inhabitants made 
uce of cei-tain quadrupeds to carry burthens. He moulded a 
figure of clay to represent these animals, which some of the 



VASCO NUNEZ DE BALBOA. 131 

Spaniards supposed to be a deer, others a camel, others a tapir, 
for as yet they knew nothing of the lama, the native heast of 
burthen of South America. This was the second intimation 
received by Vasco Nuiiez of the great empire of Pei-u ; and, 
while it confirmed all that had been told him by the son of 
Comagre, it filled him with glowing anticipations of the glori- 
ous triumphs that awaited him. 



CHAPTER XII. 



FURTHER ADVENTURES AND EXPLOITS OF VASCO NUNEZ ON THE 
BORDERS OF THE PACIFIC OCEAN. 

Lest any ceremonial should be wanting to secure this grand 
discovery to the crown of Spain, Vasco Nunez determined to 
saUy from the gulf and take possession of the main land be- 
yond. The cacique Tumaco furnished him with a canoe of 
state, formed from the trunk of an enormous tree, and managed 
by a great niimber of Indians. The handles of the paddles 
were uilaid with small pearls, a circumstance which Vasco 
Nunez caused his cotnpanions to testify before the notary, that 
it might be reported to the sovereigns as a proof of the wealth 
of this newly discovered sea. * 

Departing in the canoe on the 29th of October, he was piloted 
cautiously by the Indians along the borders of the gulf, over 
drowned lands where the sea was fringed by inundated forests 
and as still as a pool. Arrived at the point of the gulf, Vasco 
Nunez landed on a smooth sandy beach, laved by the waters 
of the broad ocean, and, with buckler on arm, sword in hand, 
and banner displayed, again marched into the sea and took 
possession of it, with like ceremonials to those observed in the 
Gulf of St. Michael's. 

The Indians now pointed to a line of land rising above the 
horizon about four or five leagues distant, which they described 
as being a great island, the principal one of an archipelago 
The whole group aboiuided with peaiis, but those taken on the 
coasts of this island were represented as being of immense size. 
many of them as large as a man's eye, and found in shell-fish as 

* Oviedo^ Hist. Gen. p. 2, MS. 



132 >S2\\mSU VOYAGES OF VJSCOVERT. 

big as bucklers. This island and the surrounding cluster of 
sinall ones, they added, were under the dominion of a tyranni- 
cal and puissant cacique, who often, during the calm seasons, 
made descents upon the main land with fleets of canoes, plun- 
dering and desolating the coasts, and carrying the people into 
captivity. 

Vasco Nufiez gazed with an eager and wistful eye at this 
land of riches, and would have immediately undertaken an ex- 
pedition to it, had not the Indians represented the danger of 
venturing on such a voyage in that tempestuous season m theu' 
frail canoes. His own recent experience convinced him of the 
wisdom of their i-emonstrances. He postponed his visit, there- 
fore, to a future occasion, when, he assured his allies, he would 
avenge them upon this tyrant invader, and deliver their coasts 
from his maraudings. In the mean time he gave to this island 
the name of Isla Eica, and the little archipelago surrounding it 
the general appellation of the Pearl Islands. 

On the third of November Vasco Nunez departed from the 
province of Txunaco, to visit other parts of the coast. He em- 
barked i\-ith his men in the canoes, accompanied by Chiapes 
and his. Indians, and guided by the son of Tumaco, who had 
become strongly attached to the Spaniards. The young man 
piloted them along an arm of the sea, wide in some places, but 
in others obstructed by groves of mangrove trees, which grew 
within the water and interlaced their blanches from shore to 
shore, so that at times the Spaniards were obliged to cut a pas- 
sage with their swords. 

At length they entered a great and turbulent river, which 
they ascended with difficulty, and early the next morning 
surprised a village on its banks, making the cacique Teao- 
chan prisoner ; who purchased their favour and kind treatment 
by a quantity of gold and pearls, and an abundant supply of 
provisions. As it was the intention of Vasco Nuilez to aban- 
don the shores of the Southern Ocean at this place, and to 
strike across the mountains for Darien, he took leave of 
Chiapes and of the youthful son of Tumaco, who were to re- 
turn to their houses in the canoes. He sent at the same time 
a message to his men, whom he had left in the village of 
Chinpos, appointing a place in the mountains where they were 
to rejoin him on his way back to Darien. 

The talent of Vasco Nunez for conciliating and winning the 
good-will of the savages is often mentioned, and to such a de- 
gree had be exerted it in the present instance, that the two 



VASCO NVMEZ DE BALBOA. ]33 

chieftains shed tears at parting. Their conduct had a favour- 
able effect upon the cacique Teaochan ; he entertained Vasco 
Nuiiez with the most devoted hospitality during three days 
that he remained in his village ; when about to depart he fur- 
nished him with a stock of provisions sufficient for several 
days, as his route would lay over rocky and sterile mountains. 
He sent also a niimerous band of his subjects to carry the bur- 
thens of the Spaniards. These he placed under the command 
of his son, whom he ordered never to separate from the stran- 
gers, nor to permit any of his men to return without the con- 
sent of Vasco Nunez. 



CHAPTER Xni. 



VA£CO NUf^EZ SETS OUT ON HIS RETURN ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS 
— HIS CONTESTS WITH THE SAVAGES. 

Turning their backs upon the Southern Sea, the Spaniards 
now began painfully to clamber the rugged mountains on their 
return to Darien. 

In the early part of their route an imlooked-for suffering 
awaited them: there was neither brook nor fountain nor stand- 
ing pool. The burning heat, which produced intolerable thirst, 
had dried up all the mountain torrents, and they were tanta- 
hzcd by the sight of naked and dusty channels where water 
had once flowed in abundance. Their sufferings at length in- 
creased to such a height that many threw themselves fevered 
and panting upon the earth, and were ready to give up the 
ghost. The Indians, however, encouraged them to proceed, 
by hopes of speedy relisf, and after a while, turning aside 
from the direct course, led them into a deep and narrow glen, 
refreshed and cooled by a fountain which bubbled out of a cleft 
of the rocks. 

While refreshing themselves at the fountain, and reposing in 
the little valley, they learnt from their guides that they were 
in the territories of a powerful chief named Poncra, famous 
for his riches. The Spaniards had already heard of the golden 
stores of this Croesus of the mountains, and being now re- 
freshed and invigorated, pressed forwai'd with eagerness for 
his village. 



134 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

The cacique and most of his people fled at their approach, 
but they found an earnest of his wealth in the deserted houses, 
amounting to the value of three thousand crowns in gold. 
Their avarice thus whetted, they despatched Indians in search 
of Poncra, who found him trembling in his secret retreau, and 
partly by threats, partly by promises, prevailed upon him and 
throe of his principal subjects to come to Vasco Nunez. He 
was a savage, it is said, so hateful of aspect, so misshapen in 
body and deformed in all liis members, that he was hideous to 
behold. The Spaniards endeavoured by gentle means to draw 
from him information of the places from whence he had pro- 
cured Ms gold. He professed utter ignorance in the matter, 
declaring that the gold found in his village had been gathered 
by his predecessors in times long past, and that as he himself 
set no value on the metal, he had never troubled himself to 
seek it. The Spaniards resorted to menaces, and even, it is 
said, to tortures, to compel him to betray his reputed treasures, 
but with no better success. Disappointed in their expecta- 
tions, and enraged at his supposed obstinacy, they hstened too 
readdy to charges advanced against him by certain caciques 
of the neighbourhood, who represented him as a monster of 
cruelty, and as guilty of crunes repugnant to nature ;* where- 
upon, in the heat of the moment, they gave him and his three 
companions, who wci'e said to be equally guilty, to be torn in 
pieces by the dogs. — A rash and cruel sentence, given on the 
evidence of avowed enemies ; and which, however it may be 
palliated by the alleged horror and disgust of the Spaniards at 
the imputed crimes of the cacique, bears too much the stamp 
of haste and passion, and remains a foul blot on the character 
of Vasco Nuiiez. 

The Spaniards remained for thirty days reposing in the vil- 
lage of the unfortunate Poncra, during which time they were 
rejoined by their companions, who had been left behind at the 
village of Chiapes. They were accompanied by a cacique of 
the mountains, who had lodged and fed them, and made them 
presents of the value of two thousand crowns in gold. This 
hospitable savage approached Vasco Nunez with a serene 
countenance, and taking him by the hand, "Behold," said he, 
" most valiant and powerful chief, I bring thee thy companions 
safe and well, as they entered under my roof. May he who 
made the thunder and lightning, and who gives us the fruits 

* p. Martyr, d. ill. c. 2. 



VASCO NU:^EZ 1)E BALBOA. 135 

of the earth, preserve thee and thine in safety !" So saying, 
he raised his eyes to the sun, as if he worshipped that as his 
deity and the dispenser of all temporal blessings.* 

Departing from this vUlage, and being still accompanied by 
the Indians of Toaochan, the Spaniards now bent theii* course 
along the banks of the river Comagre, which descends the 
northern side of the Isthmus, and flows through the territories 
of the cacique of the same name. This wild stream, which 
ifi the course of ages had worn a channel through the deep 
clefts and ravines of the mountains, was bordered by preci- 
pices, or overhung by shagged forests; they soon abandoned 
it, therefore, and wandered on without any path, but guided 
by the Indians. They had to climb terrible precipices, and to 
descend into deep valleys, darkened by thick forests and beset 
by treacherous morasses, where, but for their guides, they 
might have been smothered in the mire. 

In the course of this rugged journey they suffered excessive- 
ly in consequence of their own avarice. They had been warned 
of the sterilitj^ of the country they were about to traverse, and 
of the necessity of providing amply for the journey. When they 
came to lade the Indians, however, who bore their burdens, 
their only thought was how to convey the most treasure ; and 
they grudged even a slender supply of provisions, as taking up 
the place of an equal weight of gold. The consequences were 
soon felt. The Indians could carry but small burthens, and at 
the same time assisted to consume the scanty stock of food 
which formed part of their load. Scarcity and famine ensued, 
and relief was rarely to be procured, for the villages on this 
elevated part of the mountains were scattered and poor, and 
nearly destitute of provisions. They held no communication 
with each other ; each contenting itself with the scanty prod- 
uce of its own fields and forest. Some were entirely desei-tcd ; 
at other places, the inhabitants, forced from their retreats, 
implored pardon, and declared they had hidden themselves 
through shame, not having the means of properly entertaining 
such celestial visitors. They brought peace-offeiungs of gold, 
but no provisions. For once the Spaniards found that even 
their darling gold could fail to cheer their drooping spirits. 
Their sufferings from himger became intense, and many of 
their Indian companions sank down and perished by the way. 
hx length they reached a village where they were enabled to 

* Heirera, d. i. 1. x. c. 4 



136 SPAmSII VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY. 

obtain supplies, and where they remained thirty days, to re- 
cruit their wasted strenjrth. 



CHAPTER XIV. 



ENTERPRISE AGAINST TUBANAMA, THE WARLIKE CACIQUE OF THE 
MOUNTAINS — RETURN TO DARIEN, 

The Spaniards had now to pass through the territories of 
Tubanania, the most potent and warhke cacique of the moun- 
tains. This was the same chieftain of whom a formidable 
character had been given by the young Indian prince, Avho 
first informed Vasco Nuiiez of the southern sea. He had erro- 
neously rejiresented the dominions of Tubanama as lying be- 
yond the mountains ; and, when he dwelt iipon the quantities 
of gold to be found in them, had magnified the dangei*s that 
would attend any attempt to pass theii- borders. The name of 
this redovibtable cacique was, in fact, a terror throughout the 
country ; and, when Vasco Nuiiez looked round upon liis hand- 
ful of pale and emaciated followers, he doubted whether even 
the supei'iority of their weapons and their mihtary skill would 
enable them to cope with Tubanama and his armies in open 
contest. He resolved, therefore, to venture upon a perilous 
stratagem. When he niade it known to his men, every one 
pressed forward to engage in it. Choosing seventy of the most 
vigorous, he ordered the rest to maintain their post in the vil- 
lage. 

As soon as night had fallen, he departed silently and secretly 
with his chosen band and made his way with such rapidity 
through the labyrinths of the forests and the defiles of the 
mountains that he arrived in the neighbourhood of the resi- 
dence of Tubanama by the following evening, though at the 
distance of two regular days' journey. 

There, waiting until midnight, he assailed the village svid- 
denly and with success, so as to surprise and capture the 
cacique and his whole family, in which were eighty females. 
When Tubanama foimd himself a prisoner in the hands of the 
Spaniards, be lost all presence of mind and Avept bitterly. The 
Indian allies of Vasco Nunez, beholding their once-dreaded 
enemy thus fallen and captive, now urged that he should bQ 



VASCO NUNEZ DE BALBOA. 137 

put to death, accusing him of various crimes and cruelties. 
Vasco Nufiez pretended to Hsten to their prayers, and gave 
orders that his captive shoidd be tied hand and foot and given 
to the dogs. The cacique approached liim trembhng, and laid 
bis hand upon the ponunel of his sword. "Who can pretend," 
said he, ' ' to strive with one who bears this weapon, which can 
cleave a man asunder with a blow? Ever since thy fame has 
reached among these mountams have I reverenced thy valour. 
Spare my life and thou shalt have all the gold I can procure." 

Vasco Nunez, whose anger was assumed, was readOy paci- 
fied. As soon as the day dawned the cacique gave him arm- 
lets and other jewels of gold to the value oi; three thousand 
crowns, and sent messengers throughout his dominions order- 
mg his subjects to aid in paying his rausom. The poor In- 
dians, with their accustomed loyalty, hastened in crowds, 
brmging their golden ornaments, until, in the course of three 
days, they had produced an amount equal to six thousand 
crowns. This done, Vasco Nuiiez sei; the cacique at hberty, 
bestowing on him several European trinkets, with which he 
considered himself richer than he had been with all his gold. 
Nothing would draw from him, however, the disclosure of the 
mines from whence this treasure was procured. Ho declaimed 
tbat it came from the territories of his neighbours, where gold 
and pearls were to be found in abundance ; but that his lands 
produced nothing of the kind. Vasco Nunez doubted his sin- 
cerity, and secretly caused the brooks and rivers in his dornin- 
ions to be searched, where gold was found in such quantities, 
that he determined at a future time to found two settlements 
in the neighbourhood. 

On parting with Tubanama, the cacique sent his son with the 
Spaniards to learn their language and religion. It is said, also, 
that the Spaniards carried off his eighty women ; but of this par- 
ticidar fact, Oviodo, who writes with the papers of Vasco Nunez 
before him, says nothing. He affirms generally, however, that 
the Spaniards, throughout this expedition, were not scrupulous 
in their dealings with the wives and daughters of the Indians ; 
and adds that in this their commander sot them the example.* 

Having returned to the village, where he had left the greater 
part of bis men, Vasco Nufiez resumed his homeward march, 
Ilis people wore feeble and exhausted and several of them sick, 
so that some had to bo carried and others led by the arms. He 

* Oviedo, Hist. Gen. Part II. c. 4, MS. 



138 SPANISII VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

himself was part of the time afflicted bj a fever, aiid had to be 
borne in a hammock on the shoulders of the Indians. 

Proceeding thus slowly and toilfully, they at length arrived 
on the northern sea-coast, at the territories of their ally, Co- 
niagre. The old cacique was dead and had been succeeded by 
his son, the same intelligent youth who had first given infor- 
raation of the southern sea and the kingdom of Peni. The 
young chief, who liad embraced Christianity, received them 
with great hospitality, making them presents of gold. Vasco 
Nuiiez gave him trinkets in return and a shirt and a soldier's 
cloak; with which, says Peter Martyr, he thought himself half 
a god among his naked countrymen. xVfter having reposed for 
a few days, Vasco Nuiiez proceeded to Ponca, where he heard 
that a ship and caravel had arrived at Darien from Hispaniola 
with reinforcements and supplies. Hastening, therefore, to 
Coyba, the teri*itories of his ally, Careta, he embarked on the 
18th of January, 1514, with twenty of his men, in the brigan- 
tine which he had left there, and arrived at Santa Maria de la 
Antigua in the river of Darien on the folloAving day. All the 
inhabitants came forth to receive him ; and. when they heard 
the news of the great southern sea, and of his returning from 
its shores laden with pearls and gold, there were no bounds to 
their joj'. He immediately despatched the ship and caravel to 
Coyba for the companions he had left l)ehind, v.-ho brought 
with them the remaining booty, consisting of gold and pearls, 
mantles, hammocks, and other articles of cotton, and a great 
number of captives of both sexes. A fifth of the spoil was set 
apart for the crown ; the rest was shared, in just propoitions, 
among those who had been in the expedition and tliose who 
had remained at Darien. All were contented with their allot- 
ment, and elated with the prospect of still greater gain from 
futiu-e enterprises. 

Thus ended one of the most remarkable expeditions of the 
early discoverers. The intrepidity of Vasco Nunez in pene- 
trating with a handful of inen far into the interior of a wild 
and moimtainous country, peopled by warlike tribes: his skill 
in managing his band of rough adventurers, stimulating their 
valour, enforcing their obedience, and attaching tlieir affec- 
tions, show him to have possessed great qualities as a general. 
We are told that he was always foremost in peril and the last 
to quit the field. He shared the toils and dangers of the mean- 
est of his followers, treating them with frank affability; watch- 
ing, fighting, fasting, and labouring with them; visiting and 



VASCO NUS'EZ DE BALBOA. 139 

consoling such as were sick or infirm, and dividing all his 
gains with fairness and liberality. He was chargeable at times 
with acts of bloodshed and injustice, but it is probable that 
these were often called for as measures of safety and precau- 
tion ; he certainly offended less against humanity than most of 
the early discoverers; and the unbounded amity and confi- 
dence reposed in him by the natives, when they became inti- 
mately acquainted with his character, speak strongly in 
favour of his kind treatment of them. 

The character of Vasco Nunez had, in fact, risen with his 
circumstances, and now assumed a nobleness and grandeur 
from the discovery he had made, and the important charge it 
had devolved upon him. He no longer felt himself a mere 
soldier of fortune, at the head of a band of adventurers, but a 
great commander conducting an immortal enterprise. "Be- 
hold," says old Peter Martyr, "Vasco Nunez de Balboa, at 
once transformed from a rash royster to a politic and discreet 
captain:" and thus it is that men are often made by their for- 
tunes; that is to say, their latent qualities are brought out, 
and shaped and strengthened by events, and by the necessity 
of every exertion to cope with the greatness of their destiny. 



CHAPTER XV. 



TRANSACTIONS IN SPAIN — PEDRARIAS DAVILA APPOINTED TO THE 
COMMAND OF DARIEN— TIDINGS RECEIVED IN SPAIN OF THE 
DISCOVERY OF THE PACIFIC OCEAN. 

Vasco Nunez de Balboa now flattered himself that he had 
made a discoveiy calculated to silence all his enemies at court, 
and to elevate him to the highest favour with his sovei-eign. 
He wrote letters to the king, giving a detail of his expedition, 
and setting forth all that he had seen or heard of this Southern 
Sea, and of the rich countries upon its borders. Beside the 
royal fifths of the profits of the expedition, he prepared a 
present for the sovereign, in the name of himself and his com- 
panions, consisting of the largest and most precious peaiJrj 
they had collected. As a trusty and intelligent envoy to bear 
these tidings, he chose Pedro de Arbolancha, an old and tried 
friend, who had accompanied him in his toils and dangers, 
and was well acquainted with all liis transactions. 



140 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY. 

The fate of Vasco Nunez furnishes a striking instance how 
prosperity and adversity, how even hfe and death hang bwl-. 
anced upon a point of time, and are affected by the improve- 
ment or neglect of moments. Unfortunately, the ship which 
was to convey the messenger to Spain lingered in port until 
the beginning of March ; a delay which had a fatal influence 
on the fortunes of Vasco Nunez. It is necessary here to cast 
an eye back upon th^ events which had taken place in Spain 
while he was employed in his conquests and discoveries. 

The Bachelor Enciso had arrived in Castile full of his wrongs 
and indignities He had friends at court, who aided him in 
gaining a ready hearing, and he lost not a moment in availing 
hunself of it He declaimed eloquently upon the alleged usur • 
pation of Vasco Nuiioz and represented him as governing the 
colony by force and fraud. It was in vain that the Alcalde 
Zamudio, the ancient colleague and the envoy of Vasco Nuiiez, 
attempted to speak in his defence ; he was unable to cope with 
the facts and arguments of the Bachelor, who was a pleader 
by profession, and now pleaded his own cause. The king de- 
termined to send a new governor to Darien with power to in- 
quire into and remedy all abuses. For this office he chose 
Pen Pedro Arias DavOa, commonly called Pedrarias.* Ho 
was a native of Segovia, who had been brought up in the royal 
household, and had distinguished himself as a brave soldier, 
both in the war in Granada and at the taking of Oran and 
Bugia in Africa. He possessed those personal accomplish- 
ments which captivate the soldiery, and was called el Galan, 
for ills gallant aiTay and courtly demeanour, and el Jiistador, 
or Vte Tiltet; for his dexterity in jousts and tournaments. 
These, it must be admitted, were not the qualifications most 
adapted for the government of inide and factious colonies in a 
wilderness; but he had an all-powei'ful friend in the Bishop 
Fonseca. The Bishop was as thoroughgoing in patronage as 
in persecution. He assured the king that Pedrarias had un- 
derstanding equal to bis valour; that he was as capable of 
managing the affairs of peace as of war, and that, having been 
brought up in the loyal household, his loyalty might be im- 
plicitly relied on. 

Scarcely had Don Pedrarias been appointed, when Cayzedo 
and Colmenares arrived on their mission from Darien, to 
communicate the intelligence received from, the son of the 

* By the KnpUsh historians he has generally been called Daviia. 



VASCO NUJ^EZ DE BALBOA. 14i 

cacique Comagre, of the Southern Sea beyond the mountains, 
and to ask one thousand men to enable Vasco Niulez to make 
the discovery. 

The avarice and ambition of Ferdinand were inflamed by 
the tidings. He rewarded the bearers of the intelhgence, and, 
after consiilting with Bishop Fonseca, resolved to despatch 
immediately a poAverfid ai'mada, with twelve hundred men, 
under the command of Pedrarias, to accomplish the enterprise. 

Just about tills time the famous Gonsalvo Hernandez de 
Cordova, commonly called the Great Captain, was preparing 
to return to Naples, where the aUies of Spain had experienced 
a signal defeat, and had craved the assistance of this renowned 
general to retrieve their fortunes. The chivalry of Spain 
thronged to enhst under the banner of Gonsalvo. The Span- 
ish nobles, with tiieir accustomed prodigality, sold or mort- 
gaged their estates to buy gorgeous armour, silks, brocades, 
and other articles of martial pomp and luxury, that they 
might figure, with becoming mag-nificence, in the campaigns 
of Italy. The armament was on the point of sailing for 
Naples with this host of proud and gallant spirits, when the 
jealous mind of Ferdinand took offence at the enthusiasm thus 
shown towards his general, and he abruptly countermanded 
the expedition. The Spanish cavaliers were overwhelmed 
with disappointment at having their dreams of glory thus 
suddenly dispelled ; when, as if to console them, the enterprise 
of Pedrarias was set on foot, and opened a different career of 
adventure. The very idea of an imknown sea and splendid 
empire, where never European ship had sailed or foot had 
trodden, broke upon the imagination with the vague wonders 
of an Arabian tale. Even the countries already known, in the 
vicinity of the settlement of Darien, were described in the 
usual tenns of exaggeration. Gold was said to lie on the 
surface of the ground, or to be gathered with nets out of 
the brooks and rivers; insomuch that the region liitherto 
called Terra Firma now received the pompous and delusive 
appellation of Castilla del Oro, or Golden Castile. 

Excited by those reports, many of the youthful cavaliers, 
who had prepared for the Italian campaign, now offered 
themselves as volunteers to Don Pedrarias. He accepted 
their services, and appointed Seville as the place of assem- 
blage. Tlie streets of that ancient city soon swarmed with 
young and noble cavaliers splendidly arrayed, full of spirits, 
and eager for the sailing of the Indian armada. Pedrarias, 



142 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

on his arrival at Seville, made a general review of his forces, 
and was embarrassed to find that the niunber amoimted to 
three thousand. He had been hniited in his fii"st armament 
to twelve hundred; on representing the nature of the case, 
however, the number was extended to fifteen hundred; but 
through influence, entreaty, and stratagem, upwards of two 
thousand eventually embarked.* Happy did he think hmi- 
self who could in any manner, and by any means, get ad- 
mitted on board of the squadron. Nor vas this eagerness 
for the enterprise confined merely to young and )uoyant 
and ambitious adventurei-s ; we are told that there >vero 
many covetous old men, who offered to go at their )wn 
expense, without seeking any pay from the king. Thus 
every eye was turned with desire to this squadron of mod- 
ern Argonauts, as it lay anchored on the bosom of the 
Guadalquiver. 

The pay and appointments of Don Pedrarias Davila were 
on the most liberal scale, and no expense was spared in fit- 
ting out the armament ; for the objects of the expedition were 
both colonization and conquest. Artillery and powder were 
procured from Malaga. Beside the usual weapons, t.ach as 
muskets, cross-bows, swords, pikes, lances, and Neapolitan 
targets, there was armour devised of quilted cotton, as being 
light and better adapted to the climate, and sufiiciently proof 
against the weapons of the Indians; and wooden 'uicklcrs 
from the Canary Islands, to ward ofl; the poisoned arrows of 
the Caribs. 

Santa Maria de la Antigua was, by royal ordinance, elevated 
into the metropolitan city of Golden Castile, and a Franciscan 
friar, named Juan de Quevedo, was appointed as bisho]), with 
powers to decide in all cases of conscience. A number of 
friars were nominated to accompany him, and he was pro- 
vided with the necessary furniture and vessels for a chapel. 

Among the various regulations made for the good of tlio 
infant colony, it -was ordained that no lawyers should bo 
admitted there, it having been found at Hispaniola and else- 
where, that tliey were detrimental to the welfare of the settle- 
ments, by fomenting disputes and litigations. The judicial 
affairs wei-e to be entirely confided to the Licentiate Gaspar 
de Espinosa, who was to ofliciate as Alcalde Mayor or chief 
judge. 

* Oviedo, 1. ii., c. 7, MS. 



VA8C0 NUNEZ DE BALBOA. 143 

Don Pedi'arias had intended to leave his wife in Spain. Her 
name "was Dofia Isabella de Bobadilla; she was niece to the 
Marchioness de Moya, a great favourite of the late Queen 
Isabella, who had been instrumental in persuading her royal 
mistress to patronize Columbus.* Her niece partook of her 
high and generous nature. She refused to remain beliind in 
selfish security, but declared tlaat she would accompany her 
husband in every peril, whether by sea or land. This self- 
devotion is the more remarkable when it is considered that 
she was past the romantic period of youth ; and that she had a 
family of four sons and four daughters, whom she left beliind 
her in Spain. 

-Don Pedrarias was instructed to use great indulgence 
towards the people of Darien, who had been the followers of 
Nicuesa, and to remit the royal tithe of all the gold they might 
have collected previous to his arrival. Towards Vasco Nuiiez 
de Balboa alone the royal countenance was stern and severe. 
Pedrarias v/as to depose him from his assumed authority, and 
to call him to strict account before the Alcalde Mayor, Gaspar 
de Espinosa, for his treatment of the Bachelor Enciso. 

The splendid fleet, consisting of fifteen sail, weighed anchor 
at St. Lucar on the 12th of April, 1514, and swept proudly out 
of the Guadalquiver, thronged with the chivalrous adventurers 
for Golden Castile. But a short time had elapsed after its 
departu]'e, when Pedro Arbolancho arrived with the tardy 
missions of Vasco Nunez. Had he arrived a few days sooner, 
how different might have been the fortunes of his friend! 

He was immediately admitted to the royal presence, where 
he announced the adventurous and successful expedition of 
Vasco Nuiiez, and laid before the king the pearls and golden 
ornaments which he had brought as the first fruits of the dis- 
covery. King Ferdinand listened with charmed attention to 
this tale of unknown seas and wealthy realms added to his 
empire. It filled, in fact, the imaginations of the most sage 
and learned with golden dreams, and anticipations of un- 
bounded riches. Old Peter Martyr, who received letters 
from his friends in Darien, and communicated by word of 
mouth with those who came from thence, writes to Leo the 
Tenth in exulting tenns of this event. "Spain," says he, 



♦This was the same Marchioness de Moya, who during tho war of Granadii, 
•while the court and i-oyal army were encamped before Malaga, was mistala-u for 
the queen by a Moorish fanatic, and had nearly fallen beneath his dagger. 



144 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY. 

"will hereafter be able to satisfy -with pearls the greedy 
appetite of such as in wanton pleasures are like unto Cleo- 
patra and JEsopus ; so that hencefoi'th we shall neither envy 
nor reverence the nice fruitfulness of Trapoban or the Red 
Sea. The Spaniards ^vill not need hereafter to mine and dig 
far into the earth, nor to cut asunder mountains in quest of 
fTold, but will find it plentifully, in a manner, on the upper 
crust of the earth, or in the sands of rivers dried up by the 
heats of summer. Certainly the reverend antiquity obtained 
not so great a benefit of natiu'e, nor even aspired to the know- 
ledge thereof, since never man before, from the known world, 
penetrated to these unl<;nown regions." * 

The tidings of this discovery at once made all Spain resound 
with the praises of Vasco Nuiiez ; and from being considered a 
lawless and desperate adventurer, he was lauded to the skies 
as a worthy successor to Cohunbus. The king repented of 
the harshness of his late measures towards him, and ordered 
the Bishop Fonseca to devise some mode of rewarding his 
transcendent services. 



CHAPTER XVI. 



ARRIVAL AND GRAND ENTRY OF DON PEDRARIAS DAVILA INTO 

DARIEN. 

While honours and rewards were prepaiing in Europe for 
Vasco Nunez, that indefatigable commander, inspired by his 
fortunes, with redoubled zeal and loftier ambition, was exercis- 
ing the paternal forethought and discretion of a patriotic 
governor over the country subjected to his rule. His most 
strenuous exertions were directed to bring the neighbourhood 
of Darien into such a state of cultivation as might render the 
settlement independent of Europe for supplies. The town was 
situated on the banks of a river, and cojitained upwards of 
two hundred houses and cabins. Its population amounted to 
five hundred and fifteen Europeans, all men, and fifteen him- 
drcd Indians, mnlo and female. Orchards and gardens had 
been laid out, whore European as well as native fruits and 
vegetables were cultivated, and already gave promise of future 



• p. Martyr, decad. 3, chap. Hi. Lok'e translation. 



VASCO NUNEZ BE BALBOA. 145 

abundance. Yasco Nunez devised all kinds of means to keep 
up the spirits of his people. On holidays they had their 
favourite national sports and games, and particularly tilting 
matches, of which chivalrous amusement the Spaniards in 
those days were extravagantly fond. Sometimes he gratified 
their restless and roving habits by sending them on expedi- 
tions to various parts of the country, to acquire a knowledge 
of its resources, and to strengthen Ms sway over the natives. 
He was so successful in securing the amity or exciting the awe 
of the Indian tribes, that a Spaniard might go singly about 
the land in perfect safety; while his own followers were 
zealous in their devotion to him, both from admiration of his 
past exploits and from hopes of soon being led by him to new 
discoveries and conquests. Peter Martyr, in his letter to Leo 
the Tenth, speaks in high terms of these ' ' old soldiers of 
Darien," the remnants of those well-tried adventurers who had 
followed the fortunes of Ojeda, Nicuesa, and Vasco Nunez. 
" They were hardened," says he, "to abide all sorrows, and 
were exceedingly tolerant of labour, heat, hunger, and watch- 
ing, insomuch that they merrily make their boast that they 
have observed a longer and sharper Lent than ever your 
Holiness enjoined, since, for the space of four years, their food 
has been lierbs and fruits, with now and then fish, and very 
seldom flesh."* 

Such were the hardy and woll-seasoned veterans that were 
imder the sway of Vasco Nunez ; and the colony gave signs of 
rising in prosperity under his active and fostering manage- 
ment, when in the month of June the fleet of Don Pedrarias 
Davila arrived in the Gulf of Uraba. 

The Spanish cavaliers who accompanied the new governor 
were eager to get on shore, and to behold the anticipated 
wonders of the land; but Pedrarias, knowing the resolute 
character of Vasco Nuiiez, and the devotion of his followers, 
apprehended some diflBculty in getting possession of the colony. 
Anchoring, therefore, about a league and a half from the settle- 
ment, he sent a messenger on shore to announce his arrival. 
The envoy, having heard so much in Spain of the prowess and 
exploits of Vasco Nunez and the riches of Golden Castile, 
expected, no doubt, to find a blustering warrior, maintaining 
barbaric state in the government which he had usurped. 
Great was his astonishment, therefore, to find this redoubta- 

*!>. Martyr, decad. 3. c. iii. Lok's translation. 



146 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DlSCOVKRY. 

ble hero a plain, unassuming man, clad in a cotton frock and 
drawers, and hempen sandals, directing and aiding the labour 
of several Indians who were thatching a cottage in which he 
resided. 

The messenger approached him respectfully, and announced 
the ari'ival of Don Pedrarias Davda as governor of the country. 

Whatever Vasco Nuilez may have felt at this intelligence, 
he suppressed his emotions, and answered the messenger with 
great discretion : "Tell Don Pedrarias Davila, " said he, "that 
he is welcome, that I congratulate him on his safe arrival, and 
am ready, with all who are here, to obey his ordei-s." 

The little community of rough and daring adventurers was 
immediately in an uproar when they found a new governor 
had arrived. Some of the most zealous adherents oi! Vasco 
Nuiiez were disposed to sally forth, sword in hand, and repel 
the intruder ; but they were restrained by their more consider- 
ate chieftain, who prepared to receive the new governor with 
all due submission. 

Pedrarias disembarked on the thirtieth of June, accom- 
panied by his heroic wife, Doiia Isabella ; who, according to old 
Peter Martyr, had sustained the roarings and rages of the 
ocean with no less stout courage than either her husband or 
even the mariners who had been brought up among the surges 
of the sea. 

Pedrarias set out for the embryo city at the head of two 
thousand men, all weU armed. He led his wife by the hand, 
and on the other side of him was the bishop of Darien in his 
robes ; while a brilliant train of youthful cavaliers, in gUttering 
armour and brocade, formed a kind of body-guard. 

All this pomp and splendour formed a striking contrast with 
the humble state of Vasco Nuiiez, who came forth unarmed, 
in simple attire, accompanied by his councillors and a handfid 
of the "old soldiers of Darien," scarred and battered, and 
grown half wild in Indian warfare, but without weapons, and 
in garments much the Avorse for wear, 

Vasco Nunez saluted Don Pedrarias Davila with profound 
reverence, and promised him implicit obedience, both in his 
own name and in the name of the community. Having en- 
tered the town, he conducted his distinguished guests to his 
straw-thatched habitation, where he had caused a repast to be 
prepared of such cheer as his means afforded, consisting of 
roots and fi'uits, maize and casava bread, with no other bever- 
age tlian water from the river; a sorry palace and a meagro 



VASCO NV:^EZ DE BALBOA. I47 

banquet in the eyes of the gay cavaliers, who had anticipated 
far other things from the usurper of Golden Castile. Vasco 
Nunez, however, acquitted himseK in his humble wigwam 
with the courtesy and hospitality of a prince, and showed that 
the dignity of an entertainment depends more upon the giver 
than the feast. In the meantime a plentiful supply of European 
provisions was landed from the fleet, and a temporary abund- 
ance was diffused through the colony. 



CHAPTEE XVII. 



PERFIDIOUS CONDUCT OF DON PEDRARIAS TOWARDS VASCO 

NUNEZ. 

On the day after his entrance into Darien, Don Pedrarias 
hold a private conference with Vasco Nunez in presence of the 
liistorian Oviedo, who had come out from Spain as the pubHc 
notary of the colony. The governor commenced by assuring 
him that he was instructed by the king to treat him with groat 
favour and distinction, to consult him about the affairs of the 
colony, and to apply to him for information relative to the 
surrounding country. At the same time he professed the most 
amicable feeUngs on his own part, and an intention to be 
guided by his counsels in aU public measures. 

Vasco Nuiiez was of a frank, confiding nature, and was so 
captivated by this unexpected courtesy and kindness, that he 
threw off all caution and reserve, and opened his whole soul to 
the pohtic courtier. Pedrarias availed himseK of this com- 
municative mood to draw from him a minute and able state- 
ment in writing, detailing the circumstances of the colony, and 
the information collected respecting various parts of the coun- 
try ; the route by which he had traversed the mountains ; his 
discovery of the South Sea ; the situation and reputed wealth 
of the Pearl Islands ; the rivers and ravines most productive of 
gold ; together A\ath the names and territories of the various 
caciques with whom he had made treaties. 

When Pedrarias had thus beguiled the unsuspecting soldier 
of all the information necessary for his purposes, he dropped 
the mask, and within a few days proclaimed a judicial scrutiny 
into the conduct of Vasco Nuiiez and his oflBcers. It was to 



148 SBANISU VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY. 

be conducted by the Licentiate Gaspar de Espinosa, who had 
come out as Alcalde Mayor, or cliief judge. The Licentiate was 
an inexperienced lawyer, having but recently left the univer- 
sity of Salamanca. He appears to have been somewhat flexi- 
ble in his opinions, and prone to be guided or governed by 
others. At the outset of his career he was much under the 
influence of Quevedo, the Bishop of Darien. Now, as Vasco 
Naiiez knew the importance of this prelate in the colony, he 
had taken care to secure him to his interests by paying him 
the most profoimd deference and i-espect, and by giving him a 
share in his agi'icultural enterprises and his schemes of traffic. 
In fact, the good bishop looked upon him as one eminently cal- 
culated to promote his temporal prosperity, to which ho was 
by no means insensible. Under the influence of the prelate, 
therefore, the Alcalde conunenced his investigation in the most 
favourable manner. He went largely into an examinatioxi 
of the discoveries of Vasco Nunez, and of the nature and 
extent of his various services. The governor was alarmed at 
the course which the inquiry was taking. If thus conducted, 
it would but serve to illustrate the merits and elevate the repu- 
tation of the man whom it was his interest and intent to ruin. 
To counteract it he immediately set on foot a secret and invid- 
ious course of interrogatories of the followers of Nicuesa and 
Ojeda, to draw from them testimony which might support the 
charge against Vasco Nuilez of usurpation and tyrannical abuso 
of power. The bishop and the Alcalde received information of 
this inquisition, carried on thus secretly, and without their 
sanction. They remonstrated warmlj^ again st it, as an infringe- 
ment of their rights, being coadjutors in the government; and 
they spurned the testimony of the followers of Ojeda and 
Nicuesa, as being dictated and discoloured by ancient enmity. 
Vasco Nunez was, therefore, acquitted by them of the crimi- 
nal charges made against him, though he remained involved ui 
difficulties from the suits brought against him by individuals, 
for losses and damages occasioned by his measures. 

Pedrarias was incensed at this acquittal, and insisted upon 
the guilt of Vasco Nunez, which he pretended to have estab- 
lished to lus conviction by his secret investigations ; and he 
even determined to send him in chains to Spiiui, to be tried for 
the death o I Nicuesa, and for other imputed offences. 

It was not the inclination or the interest of the bishop that 
Vasco Nunez should leave the colony ; he therefore managed 
to awaken the jealous apprehensions of the governor as to the 



VASCO NUNEZ DE BALBOA. 149 

effect of his proposed measure. He intimated that the arrival 
of Vasco Nimez in Spain would be signalized by triumph 
rather than disgrace. By that time his grand discoveries 
would be blazoned to the world, and would atone for all his 
faults. He woiild be received with enthusiasm by the nation, 
with favour by the kiag, and would probably be sent back to 
the colony clothed with new dignity and power. 

Pedrarias was placed in a perplexing dilemma by these sug- 
gestions; his violent proceedings agaiast Vasco Nunez were 
also in some measui-e restrained by the influence of his wife, 
Doiia Isabel de Bobadilla, who felt a great respect and sympathy 
for the discoverer. In his perplexity, the wily governor 
adopted a middle course. He resolved to detain Vasco Nuiiez 
at Darien under a cloud of imputation, which would gradually 
impaii- his popularity ; while his patience and means would be 
silently consumed by protracted and expensive htigation. In 
the mean time, however, the property which had been seques- 
trated was restored to him. 

While Pedrarias treated Vasco Nuiiez with this severity, he 
failed not to avail hmiself of the plans of that able commander. 
The first of these was to establish a Hne of posts across the 
mountams between Darien and the South Sea. It was his 
eager desire to execute this before any order shoiild arrive 
from the king in favour of his predecessor, in order that he 
might have the credit of having colonized the coast, and Vasco 
Nunez merely that of having discovered and visited it.* 
Before he could complete these arrangements, however, 
unlooked-for calamities fell upon the settlement, that for a 
time interrupted every project, and made every one turn his 
thoughts merely to his own security. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

CALAMITIES OF THE SPANISH CAVALIERS AT DARIEN. 

The town of Darien was situated in a deep valley surrounded 
by lofty hiUs, which, wliile they kept off the breezes so grate- 
ful in a sultry cMmate, reflected and concentrated the rays of 
the sun, insomuch that at noontide the heat was insupportable .- 

* Oviedo, Hist. I-xl.. p. 2. c. 8. 



150 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

the river which passed it was shallow, with a muddy channel 
and bordered by marshes ; overhanging forests added to the 
general humidity, and the very soil on which the town was 
built was of such a natiu-e, that on digging to the depth of a 
foot there vfoidd ooze forth brackish water.* 

It is not matter of surprise that a situation of this kind, in a 
tropical climate, should be fatal to the health of Europeans. 
Many of those who had recently ai'rived were swept otE 
speedily; Pedrarias himself fell sick and was removed, with 
most of his people, to a healthier sjsot on the river Corobari ; 
the malady, however, continued to increase. The provisions 
which had been brought out in the ships had been partly dam- 
aged by the sea, the residue grew scanty, and the people were 
put upon short allowance ; the debility thus produced increased 
the ravages of the disease ; at length the provisions were ex- 
liausted and the horrors of absolute famine ensued. 

Every one was more or less affected by these calamities; 
even the veterans of the colony quailed beneath them ; but to 
none were the>' more fatal than to the crowd of youthful cava- 
liers who had once ghttered so gaily about the streets of 
Seville, and had come out to the new world elated with the 
most sanguine expectations. From the very moment of their 
landing they had been disheartened at the savage scenes 
around them, and disgusted with the squalid hfe they were 
doomed to lead. They shrunk with disdain from the labours 
with which alone wealth was to be procured in this land of 
gold and ]iearls, and were impatient of the humble exertions 
necessiiry for the maintenance of existence. As the famiTie 
increased, their case became desperate; for they were unable 
to help themselves, and their rank and dignity commanded 
neither deference nor aid at a time when common misery 
made every one selfish. Many of them, Avho had mortgaged 
estates in Spain to fit themselves out sumptuously for their 
Italian campaign, now perished for lack of food. Some would 
bo seen bartering a robe of crimson silk, or some garment of 
rich brocade, for a pound of Indian bread or European biscuit; 
others sought to satisfy the cravings of hunger with the herbs 
and roots of the field, and one of the principal cavaUers abso- 
lutely expired of hunger in the public streets. 

In this wretched way, and in the short space of one month, 
perished seven himdred of the little army of youthful and 

♦ p. Martyr, decad. 3, c. vi. 



VASCO NUNEZ BE BALBOA. If)! 

buoyant spirits who had embarked -with Pedrarias. The 
bodies of some remained for a day or two without sepultui*e, 
their friends not having sufficient strength to bvuy them. 
Unable to remedy the evil, Pedrarias gave permission for liis 
men to flee from it. A ship-load of starving adventurers 
departed for Cuba, where some of them joined the standard of 
Diego Velasquez, who was colonizing that island ; others made 
their way back to Spain, where they arrived broken in health, 
in spirits, and in foi-tune. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

FRUITLESS EXPEDITION OP PEDRARIAS, 

The departure of so many hungry naouths was some tem- 
porary rehef to the colony ; and Pedrarias, having recovered 
from his malady, bestirred himself to send expeditions in vari- 
ous directions for the purpose of foraging the country and 
collecting the treasure. 

These expeditions, however, were entinisted to his own 
favourites and partisans; while Vasco Nuiiez, the man most 
competent to carry them into effect, remained idle and neg- 
lected. A judicial inquiry, tardily carried on, overshadowed 
him, and though it substantiated nothing, served to embarrass 
his actions, to cool his friends, and to give hun the an* of a 
public delinquent. Indeed, to the other evi2s of the colony was 
now added that of excessive litigation, arising out of the dis- 
putes concerning the government of Vasco Nuiiez, and Avhich 
increased to such a degi'ee, that according to the report of the 
Alcalde Espinosa, if the law-suits should he divided among the 
people, at least forty would fall to each man's share.* This 
too was in a colony into which the government had com- 
manded that no lawyer should be admitted. 

Wearied and irritated by the check which had been given to 
his favourite enterprises, and confident of the ultimate appro- 
bation of the king, Vasco Nunez now determined to take his 
fortunes in his own hands, and to prosecute in secret his grand 
project of explormg the regions beyond the mountains. For 

• Herrera, oecaa. 2, 1. 1. c. 1. 



In2 SI-ANlsn VOYAGES OF DISCO VERT. 

tliis purpose he privately despatched one Andres Garabito to 
Cuba to enhst men, and to make the requisite provisions for an 
expedition across the isthmus, from Nonibre de Dios, and for 
the founding a colony on the shores of the Southern Ocean, 
from whence he proposed to extend his discoveries by sea and 
land. 

While Vasco Nunez awaited the return of Garabito, he had 
the mortification of beholding various of his colonizing plans 
pursued and marred by Pedrarias. Among other enterprises, 
the governor despatched his lieutenant-general, Juan de 
Ayora, at the head of four hundred men, to visit the provinces 
of those caciques with whom Vasco Nunez had sojourned and 
made treaties on his expedition to the Southern Sea. Ayora 
partook of the rash and domineering spirit of Pedrarias, and 
harassed and devastated the countries which he pretended to 
explore. He was received with amity and confidence by vari- 
ous caciques who had formed treaties with Vasco Nunez ; but 
he repaid their hospitality with the basest ingratitude, seizing 
upon their property, taking from them their wives and 
daughters, and often torturing them to make them reveal their 
hidden or supposed treasures. Among those treated with this 
perfidy, we grieve to enumerate the youthful cacique who first 
gave Vasco Nuiiez ip.f:ormation of the sea beyond the moun- 
tains. 

The enormities of Ayora and of other captains of Pedrarias 
produced the usual effect ; the natives were roused to desper- 
ate resistance; caciques who had been faithful friends, wei*e 
converted into furious enemies, and the expedition ended in 
disappointment and disaster. 

The adherents of Vasco Nuiiez did not fail to contrast these 
disastrous enterpi'ises with those which had been conducted 
with so much glory and advantage by their favourite com- 
mander ; and their sneers and reproaches had such an effect 
upon the jealous and irritable disposition of Pedrarias, that he 
determined to employ their idol in a service that would be 
likely to be attended with defeat and to impair his popularity, 
i'ione seemed more fitting for the purpose than an expedition 
to Dobayba, where he had once already attempted in vain to 
penetrate, and where so many of his followers had fallen viC' 
tims to the stratagems and assaults of the natives. 



VASCO NUNEZ DE BALBOA, 153 



CHAPTER XX. 

SECOND EXPEDITION OF VASCO NUNEZ IN QUEST OF THE GOLD 
TEMPLE OF DOBAYBA. 

The rich mines of Dobayba and the treasures of its golden 
temple had continued to form a favourite theme with the 
Spanish adventurers. It was ascertained that Vasco Nuilez 
had stopped short of the wealthy region on his former expedi- 
tion, and had mistaken a frontier village for the residence of 
the cacique. The enterprise of the temple was therefore still 
to be achieved ; and it was solicited by several of the cavaliers 
in the train of Pedrarias with all the chivalrous ardour of that 
romantic age. Indeed, common report had invested the enter- 
prise with difficulties and danger sufficient to stimulate the am- 
bition of the keenest seeker of adventure. The savages who 
inhabited that part of the country were courageous and adroit. 
They fought by water as weU as by land, torming ambuscades 
with their canoes in the bays and rivers. The country was 
intersected by dreary fens and morasses, infested by all kinds 
of reptiles. Clouds of gnats and musquitoes fiUed the air; 
there were large bats also, supposed to have the baneful prop- 
erties of the vampire ; alligators lurked in the waters, and the 
gloomy recesses of the fens were said to be the dens of dra- 
gons ! * 

Besides these objects of terror, both true and fabulous, the 
old historian, Peter Martyr, makes mention of another mon- 
strous animal said to infest this golden region, and which 
deserves to be cited, as showing the imaginary dangers with 
which the active minds of the discoverers peopled the unex- 
plored wilderness around them. 

According to the tales of the Indians, there had occurred 
shortly before the arrival of the Spaniards a violent temjDest, 
or rather hurricane, in the neighbourhood of Dobayba, which 
demoUshed houses, tore up trees by the roots, and laid waste 
whole forests. When the tempest had subsided, and tbe af- 
frighted inhabitants ventured to look abroad, they found that 
two monstrous animals had been brought into the country by 
the hurricane. According to their accounts, they were not 

* p. Martyr. 



j;-;i4 SPANISH VOTAQES OF DISCOVERY. 

unlike the ancient harpies, and one being smaller than the 
other vras supposed to be its young. They had the faces of 
women, with the claws and wings of eagles, and were of such 
prodigious size that the very boughs of the trees on which they 
alighted broke beneath them. They would swoop down and 
carry ofE a man as a hawk would bear off a chicken, flying 
with him to the tops of the mountains, where they would tear 
him in pieces and devour him. For some time they were the 
scourge and terror of the land, until the Indians succeeded in 
killing the old one by stratagem, and hanging her on their long 
spears, bore her through all the towns to assuage the alarm of 
the inhabitants. The younger harpy, says the Indian tradi- 
tion, was never seen afterwards.* 

Such were some of the perils, true and fabulous, with which 
the land of Dobayba was said to abound ; and, in fact, the very 
Indians had such a dread of its dark and dismal morasses, 
that in their journeyings they carefully avoided them, prefer- 
ring the cireuitous and rugged paths of the moimtains. 

Several of the youthfiil cavaliers, as has been observed, were 
stimulated, rather than deterred, by these dangers, and con- 
tended for the honour of the expedition ; but Pedrarias selected 
his rival for the task, hoping, as has been hinted, that it would 
involve him in disgrace. Vasco Nuiiez promptly accepted the 
enterprise, for his pride was concerned in its success. Two 
hamdred resolute men were given to him for the purpose ; but 
his satisfaction was diminished when he found that Luis Car- 
rillo, an officer of Pedrarias, who had failed in a perilous 
enterprise, was associated with him in the command. 

Few particulars remain to us of the events of this affair. 
They embarked in a fleet of canoes, and, traversing the gulf, 
arrived at the river which flowed down from the region of 
Dobayba. They were not destined, however, to achieve the 
enterprise of the golden temple. As they were proceeding 
rather confidently and unguardedly up the river, they were 
suddenly surprised and surrounded by an immense swarm of 
canoes, filled with armed savages, which darted out from lurk- 
ing places along the shores. Some of the Indians assailed them 
with lances, others with clouds of arrows, while some, plung- 
ing into the water, endeavoured to overturn their canoes. In 
this way one-half of the Spaniards were killed or drowned. 
Among the number fell Luis CarriUo, pierced through the 

♦ p. Martyr, decad. 7, c. 10. 



VAsco nu:Bez be balboa. 155 

breast by an Indian lance. Vasco Nunez himself was wound- 
ed, and bad great difficulty in escaping to the shore with the 
residue of his forces. 

The Indians pui*sued him and kept up a skirmishing attack, 
but he beat them off until the night, when he silently aban- 
doned the shore of the river, and directed his retreat towards 
Daiien. It is easier to imagine than to describe the toils and 
dangers and horrors which beset him and the remnant of his 
men, as they traversed rugged mountains or struggled through 
these fearful morasses, of wliich they had heard such terrific 
tales. At length they succeeded in reaching the settlement of 
Darien. 

The partisans of Pedrarias exulted in seeing Vasco Nuiiez 
returned thus foiled and wounded, and taunted his adherents 
with their previous boastings. The latter, however, laid aJI 
the blame upon the unfortunate Carrillo. "Vasco Nunez," 
said they, " had always absolute command in his former enter- 
prises, but in this he has been embarrassed by an associate. 
Had the expedition been confided to him alone, the event had 
been far different." 



CHAPTER XXI. 



LETTERS FROJI THE KING IN FAVOUR OF VASCO NUNEZ — ARRIVAL 
OF GARABITO— ARREST OF VASCO NUNEZ.— (1515.) 

About this time despatches arrived from Spain that promised 
Lo give a new turn to the fortunes of Vasco Nunez and to the 
general affairs of the colony. They were written after the 
tidings of the discovery of the South Sea, and the subjugation 
of so many important provinces of the Isthmus. In a letter 
addressed to Vasco Nunez, the king expressed his high sense 
of his merits and services, and constituted him Adelantado 
of the South Sea, and Governor of the provinces of Panama 
and Coyba, though subordinate to the general command of Pe- 
drarias. A letter was hkewise written by the king to Pe- 
drarias, informing him of this appointment, and ordering him 
to consult Vasco Niulez on all pubhc affairs of importance. 
This was a humilia ting blow to the pride and consequence of 
Pedrarias, but he hoped to x^arry it. In the mean time, as all 
letters from Spam were first dehvered into his hands, he with- 



156 SIANISU VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

held that intended for Vasco Nuiiez, until he should deter- 
mine what course of conduct to adopt. The latter, however, 
heard of the circumstance, as did his friend the Bishop oi 
Darien. The prelate made loud complaints of this interrup- 
tion of the royal correspondence, which he denounced, even 
from the pulpit, as an outrage upon the rights of the subject, 
and an act of disobedience to the sovereign. 

Upon this the governor called a council of his public officers; 
and, after imparting the contents of his letter, requested their 
opinion as to the propriety of investing Vasco Nrniez with 
the dignities thus granted to him. The Alcalde Maj-or, Espi- 
nosa, had left the party of the bishop, and was now devoted to 
the governor. He insisted, vehemently, that the offices ought 
in no wise to be given io Vasco Nuiiez, luitil the king should 
be informed of the result of the inquest which was stiU going 
on against him. In tliis he was warmly supported by the 
treasurer and the accountant. The bishop rephed, indig- 
nantly, that it was presmnptuous and disloyal in them to 
dispute the commands of the king, and to interfere with the 
re%vards conscientiously given by him to a meritorious subject. 
In tliis way, he added, they were defeating, by their pas- 
sions, the grateful intentions of then- sovereign. The governor 
was overawed by the honest warmth of the bishop, and pro- 
fessed to accord with him in opinion. The council lasted until 
midnight ; and it Avas finally agreed that the titles and digni- 
ties should be conferred on Vasco Nuiiez on the following 
day.* 

Pedrarias and his officers reflected, however, that if the 
jurisdiction implied by these titles were absolutely vested in 
Vasco Nunez, the government of Darien and Castilla del Ore 
would virtually be reduced to a trifling matter ; they resolved, 
therefore, to adopt a middle course; to grant him the empty 
titles, but to make him give security not to enter upon the 
actual government of the territories in question, untU Pe- 
drarias shoifld give him permission. The bishop and Vasco 
Nuiiez assented to this arrangement; satisfied, for the present, 
with securing the titles, and tr isting to the course of events to 
get dominion over the territories, t 



* Oviedo, part 2, c. 9, MS. Oviedo, the historian, was present at this consultation, 
anil says that he wrote down the opinions given on the occasion, which the parties 
signed with their proper hands. 

t Oviedo, part 2, c. 9, MS. 



VASCO NUN'KZ BE BALBOA. 1,07 

The new honours of Vasco Nunez were now promulgated to 
the world, and he was every where addressed by the title of 
Adelantado. His old friends lifted up their heads with exulta- 
tion, and new adiieronts flocked to his standard. Parties be- 
gan to form for Mm and for Pedrarias, for it was deemed im- 
possible they could continue long in harmony. 

The jealousy of the governor was excited by these circum- 
stances ; and he regarded the newly created Adelantado as a 
dangerous rival and an insidious foe. Just at this critical junc- 
tiu-e, Andres Garabito, the agent of Vasco Nuiiez, arrived on 
the coast in a vessel which he had procured at Cuba, and had 
freighted with arms and ammunition, and seventy resolute 
men, for the secret expedition to the shores of the Pacific 
Ocean. He anchored six leagues from the harbour, and sent 
word privately to Vasco Nuiie? of his arrival. 

Information was immediately carried to Pedrarias, that a 
mysterious vessel, full of armed men, was hovering on the 
coast, and holding secret communication with his rival. The 
suspicious temper of the governor unmediately took the alarm. 
He fancied some treasonable plot against liis authority; his 
passions mingled with his fears ; and, in the first burst of his 
fury, he ordered that Vasco Nunez should be seized and con- 
fined m a wooden cage. The Bishop of Darien interposed in 
time to prevent an indignity which it might have been im- 
possible to expiate. He prevailed upon the passionate gover- 
nor, not merely to retract the order respecting the cage, but to 
examine the whole matter with coolness and deliberation. The 
result proved that his suspicions had been erroneous; and that 
the armament had been set on foot without any treasonable in- 
tent. Vasco Nuiiez was therefore set at hberty, after having 
agreed to certain precautionary conditions; but he remained 
cast down in spirit and impoverished in fortune, by the har- 
assing measures of Pedrarias. 



CHAPTER XXII. 



EXPEDITION OF MORALES AND PIZARRO TO THE SHORES OF THE 
PACIFIC OCEAN — THEIR VISIT TO THE PEARL ISLANDS — THEIR 
DISASTROUS RETURN ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS. 

The Bishop of Darien, encouraged by the success of his in- 
tercession, endeavoured to persuade the governor to go still 



158 SPAmSH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY. 

further, and to permit the departure of Vasco Nunez on his ex- 
pedition to the South Sea. The jealousy of Pedrariaa, how- 
ever, was too strong to permit him to hsten to such counsel. 
Ho was aware of the importance of the expedition, and was 
anxious that the Pearl Islands should be explored, which 
promised such abundant treasures ; but he feared to increase 
the popularity of Vasco Nuiiez, by adding such an enterprise 
to the number of his achievements. Pedrarias, therefore, set 
on foot an expedition, consisting of sixty men, but gave the 
command to one of his own relations, named Gaspar Morales. 
The latter was accompanied by Francisco Pizarro, who had 
already been to those parts in the train of Vasco Nuriex, and 
who soon rose to importance in the present enterprise by his 
fierce courage and domineering genius. 

A brief notice of the principal incidents of this expedition is 
aU that is necessaiy for the present narration. 

Morales and Pizarro traversed the mountams of the isth- 
mus by a shorter and more expeditious route than that which 
had been taken by Vasco Nufiez, and arrived on the shores of 
the South Sea at the territories of a cacique named Tutibra, by 
whom they were amicably entertained. Their great object 
was to visit the Pearl Islands : the cacique, however, had but 
four canoes, which were insufficiant to contain their whole 
party. One-half of their number, therefore, remained at the 
village of Tutibra, under the command of a captain named 
Peiialosa; the residue embarked in tlie canoes with Morales 
and Pizarro. After a stormy and perilous voyage, they landed 
on one of the smaller islands, where they had some skirmish- 
ing with the natives, and thence made their way to the princi- 
pal island of the Archipelago, to which, from the report of its 
great pearl fishery, Vasco Nuiiez had given the name of Isla 
Rica. 

The cacique of this island had long been the terror of the 
neighbouring coasts, invading the main land with fleets of 
canoes, and carrying off the inhabitants into captivity. His 
reception of the Spaniards was worthy of his fame. Four 
times did he sally forth to defend his territory, and as often 
was he repulsed with great slaughter. His warriors were over- 
whelmed with terror at the fire-arms of the Spaniards, and 
at their ferocious bloodhounds. Finding all resistance un- 
availing, the cacique was at length compelled to sue for peace. 
His piayei-a being granted, he received the conquerors into 
his habitation, which was well built, and of immense size. 



VASCO NUNEZ BE BALBOA. 155) 

Here he brought them, as a peace-offering, a basket curiously 
wrought, and filled with pearls of great beauty. Among these 
were two of extraordinary size and value. One weighed 
twenty-five carats ; the other was of the size of a Muscadine 
pear, weighing upwards of three drachms, and of oriental col- 
our and lustre. The cacique considered himself more than re- 
paid by a present of hatchets, beads, and hawks'-bells : and, oa 
the Spaniards smiling at his joy, observed, ' ' These things I 
can turn to useful purpose, but of what value are those pearls 
to me?" 

Finding, however, that these baubles were precious in the 
eyes of the Spaniards, he took Morales and Pizarro to the sum- 
mit of a wooden tower, commanding an unbounded prospect. 
"Behold, before you," said he, "the infinite sea, which ex- 
tends even beyond the sun beams. As to these islands which 
lie to the right and left, they are all subject to my sway. 
They possess but httle gold, but the deep places of the sea 
around them are full of pearls. Continue to be my friends, 
and you shall have as many as you desire ; for I value your 
friendship more than pearls, and, as far as in me lies, will 
never forfeit it." 

He then pointed to the main land, where it stretched tu 
wards the east, mountain beyond moimtain, until the summit 
of the last faded in the distance, and was scarcely seen abovt, 
the wateiy horizon. In that direction, he said, there laj^ a 
vast country of inexhaustible riches, inhabited by a mighty 
nation. He went on to repeat the vague but wonderful nj- 
mours which the Spaniards had frequently heard about the 
great kingdom of Peru. Pizai-ro listened greedUy to his words, 
and while his eye followed the finger of the cacique, as it 
ranged along the line of shadowy coast, his daring mind kin- 
dled with the thought of seeking this golden empire beyond 
the waters.* 

Before leaving the island, the two captains impressed the 
cacique with so great an idea of the power of the king of Cas- , 
tile, that he agreed to become his vassal, and to render Mm an 
annual tribute of one hundred pounds weight of pearls. 

The party having returned in safety to the mainland, though 
to a different place from that where they had embarked, Gas- 
par Morales sent his relation, Bernardo Morales, with ten men 



* Hcrrera, d. 3. 1. i. c. iv. P. Martyr, d. 3, c. x. 



]()0 Sl'AmsII VOYAGKS OF DISCOVERY. 

in quest of Peiialosa and his companions, who had remained in 
the village of Tutibra. 

Unfortunately for the Spaniards, during the absence of the 
commanders, this Peiialosa had so exasperated the natives by 
his misconduct, that a conspiracy had been formed by the 
caciques along the coast to massacre the whole of the strangers, 
when the party should return from the islands. 

Bernardo Morales and his companions, on their way in 
quest of Peiialosa, put up for the night in the village of a 
cacique named Chuchama, who was one of the conspiratoi*s. 
They were entertained with pretended hospitality. In the 
dead of the night, however, the house in which they were 
sleeping was wrapped in flames, and most of them were de- 
stroyed. Chuchama then jirepared with his confederates to 
attack the main body of the Spaniards who remained with 
Morales and Pizarro. 

Fortunately for the latter, there was among the Indians who 
had accompanied them to the islands a cacique named Chi- 
ruca, who was in secret correspondence with the conspirators. 
Some circumstances in his conduct excited their suspicions; 
they put him to the torture and drew from him a relation of 
the massacre of their companions, and of the attack with 
which they were menaced. 

^Morales and Pizarro were at first appalled by the over- 
whelming danger which surrounded them. Concealing their 
agitation, however, they compelled Chiruca to send a message 
to each of the confederate caciques, inviting him to a secret 
conference, under pretence of giving him important informa- 
tion. The caciques came at the summons: they were thus 
taken one by one to the number of eighteen, and put in chains. 
Just at this jimcture Peiialosa arrived with thirty men wlio 
had remained with him at Tutibra. Their arrival was hailed 
with joy by their comrades, who had given them up for lost. 
Encouraged by this unexpected reinforcement, the Spaniards 
now attacked by surprise the main body of confederate In- 
dians, who, b(!ing ignorant of the discovery of their plot, and 
capture of their cat;iques, were awaiting the return of the lat- 
ter in a state of neghgent security. 

PizHi-ro led the van, and set upon the enemy at daybreak 
with the old Spanish war-cry of Santiago ! It was a slaughter 
rather than a battle, for the Indians were unprepared for re- 
fiistance. Before simrise, seven hundred lay dead upon the 
field. Returning from the massacre, the commanders doomed 



VASCO jS'UNEZ DE BALBOA. 161 

the caciques who were in chains to be torn in pieces by the 
bloodhounds ; nor was even Chiruca spared from this sangui- 
nary sentence. Notwithstanding this bloody revenge, the 
vindictive spirit of the commanders was still unappeased, and 
they set off to surprise the village of a cacique named Biru, 
who dwelt on the eastern side of the Gulf of St. Michael. Ho 
was famed for valour and for cruelty ; his dweUing was sur- 
rounded by the weapons and other trophies of those whom he 
had vanquished ; and he was said never to give quarter. 

The Spaniards assailed his village before daybreak with fire 
and sword, and made dreadful havoc. Biru escaped from liis 
burning habitation, rallied his people, kept up a galling fight 
throughout the greater part of that day, and handled the 
Spaniards so roughly, that, when he drew off at night, they 
did not venture to pursue him, but returned right gladly from 
his territory. According to some of the Spanish writers, the 
kingdom of Peru derived its name from this warlike cacique, 
thi'ough a blunder of the early discoverers; the assertion, 
however, is believed to be erroneous. 

The Spanish had pushed their bloody revenge to an extreme, 
and were noA\r doomed to suffer from, the recoil. In the fury 
of their passions, they had forgotten that they were but a 
handful of men surrounded by savage nations. Eeturning 
wearied and disheartened from the battle with Biru, they were 
waylaid and assaulted by a host of Indians led on by the son 
of Chiruca. A javelin from his hand pierced one of the 
Spaniards through the breast and came out between the 
shoulders; several others were wounded, and the remainder 
were harassed by a galling fire kept up from among rocks 
and bushes. 

Dismayed at the implacable vengeance they had aroused, the 
Spaniards hastened to abandon these hostile shores and make 
the best of their way back to Darien. The Indians, however, 
were not to be appeased by the mere departure of the in- 
truders. They followed them perseveringly for seven days, 
hanging on their skirts, and harassing them by continual 
alai-ms. Morales and Pizarro, seeing the obstinacy of their 
pursuit, endeavoured to gain a march upon them by strata- 
gem. Making large fires as usual one night about the place 
of their encampment, they left them burning to deceive the 
enemy while they made a rapid retreat. Among their niun- 
ber was one poor fellow named Velasquez, who was so griev- 
ously wounded that he could not walk. Unable to accompany 



162 SPANISH VOYAOKS OF DISCO VERY. 

his countrjinen in their flight, and dreading to fall into the 
iiiorciless hands of the savages, he determined to hang him- 
self, nor could the prayers and even tears of his comrades dis- 
suade him from his purpose. 

The stratagem of the Spaniards, however, was unavailing. 
Then- retreat was perceived, and at daybreak, to their dismay, 
they found themselves surrounded by three squadrons of sav- 
ages. Unable, in their haggard state, to make head against 
so many foes, they remained drawn up all day on the defen- 
sive, some watelaing wliile others reposed. At night they Ut 
their fires and again attempted to make a secret retreat. The 
Indians, however, were as usual on their traces, and wounded 
several with arrows. Thus pressed and goaded, the Spaniards 
became desperate, and fought hke madmen, rushing upon the 
very darts of the enemy. 

Morales now resorted to an inhuman and fruitless expedient 
to retard his pursuers. He caused several Indian prisoners to 
be slain, hoping that their friends would stop to lament over 
them; but the sight of their mangled bodies only increased the 
fm-y of the savages and the obstinacy of their pursuit. 

For nine days were the Spaniards hunted in this manner 
about the woods and mountains, the swamps and fens, wander- 
ing they knew not whither, and returning upon their steps, 
until, to their dismay, they found themselves in the very place 
where, several days previously, they had been surrounded by 
the three squadrons. 

Many now began to despair of ever escaping with life from 
this trackless wilderness, thus teeming with, deadly foes. It 
was with difficulty their commanders could rally their spirits, 
and encourage them to persevere. Entering a thick forest 
they were agam assailed by a band of Indians, but despair and 
fury gave them strength : tliey fought hke wild beasts rather 
than like men, and routed the foe with dreadful carnage. 
Thc^y had hoped to gain a bi-cathing time by this victory, but a 
new distress attended them. They got entangled in one of 
those deep and dismal marshes which abound on those coasts, 
and in which the wanderer is often drowned or suffocated. 
For a whole day they toiled through brake and bramble, and 
miry fen, with the water reaching to their girdles. At length 
they extricated themselves from the swamp, and arrived at 
the sea shore. The tide was out, but was about to return, and 
on this coast it rises rapidly to a great height. Fearing to bo 
overwhelmed by the rising surf, they hastened to climb a rock 



VASCO NUNEZ DE BALBOA. 10:3 

out ^ reach of the swelling waters. Here they threw them- 
selves on the earth, panting with fatigue and abandoned to 
despair. A savage wilderness filled with still more savage 
foes, was on one side, on the other the roaring sea. How were 
they to extricate themselves from these surrounding perils? 
While reflecting on their desperate situation, they heard tha 
voices of Indians. On looking cautiously roimd, they beheld 
four canoes entering a neighbouring creek. A party was im- 
mediately despatched who came upon the savages by surprise, 
drove them into the woods, and seized upon the canoes. In 
these frail barks the Spaniards escaped from their perilous 
neighbourhood, and, traversing the Gulf of St. Mchael, landed 
in a less hostile part, from whence they set out a second time 
across the mountains. 

It is needless to recount the other hardships they endured, 
and their further conflicts with the Indians ; sufiice it to say, 
after a series of ahnost incredible sufferings and disasters, 
they at length arrived in a battered and emaciated condition 
at Darien. Thi-oughout all their toils and troubles, however, 
they had managed to preserve a part of the treasure they had 
gained in the islands ; especially the pearls given them by the 
cacique of Isla Rica. These were objects of universal admira- 
tion. One of them was put up at auction, and bought by 
Pedrarias, and was afterwards presented by his wife Dona 
Isabella de Bobadilla to the Empress, who, in retm-n, gave her 
four thousand ducats * 

Such was the cupidity of the colonists, that the sight of 
these pearls and the reputed wealth of the islands of the 
Southern Sea, and the kingdoms on its borders, made far 
greater impression on the public mind, than the tale told by 
the adventurers of a,ll the horrors they had passed; and every 
one was eager to seek these wealthy regions beyond tha 
mountains. 

♦ Herrera, Hist. Ind. d. 2, 1. i. c. 4. 



J 04 SPAmsn VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

UNFORTUNATE ENTERPRISES OF THE OFFICERS OF PEDRARIAS— 
MATRIMONIAL COMPACT BETWEEN THE GOVERNOR AND VASCO 
NUNEZ. 

In narrating the preceding expedition of Morales and Pi- 
zarro, we have been tempted into what may almost be deemed 
an episode, though it serves to place in a proper light the lurk- 
ing diflBculties and dangers which beset the expeditions of 
Vasco Nuuez to the same regions, and his superior prudence 
and management in avoiding them. It is not the object of 
this narrative, however, to record the general events of the 
colony under the administration of Don Pedi'arias Davila. 
We refrain, therefore, from detailing various expeditions set on 
foot by him to explore and subjugate the surrounding country; 
and which, being ignorantly or rashly conducted, too often 
ended in misfortune and disgi-ace. One of these Avas to the 
province of Zenu, where gold was supposed to be taken in the 
rivers in nets ; and where the Bachelor Enciso once undertook 
to invade the sepulchres. A captain named Francisco Be- 
cerra penetrated into this country at the head of one hundred 
and eighty men, weU armed and equipped, and provided with 
three pieces of artillery ; but neither the commander nor any 
of his men returned. An Indian boy who accompanied them 
was the only one who escaped, and told the dismal tale of their 
having fallen victims to the assaults and stratagems and 
poisoned arrows of the Indians. 

Another band was defeated by Tubanama, the ferocious ca- 
cique of the mountains, who bore as banners the bloody shirts 
of the Spaniards he had slain in former battles. In fine, the 
colony became so weakened by these repeated losses, and the 
savages so emboldened by success, that the latter beleaguered 
it with their forces, harassed it by assaults and ambuscades, 
and reduced it to great extremity. Such was the alarm in 
Darien, says the Bishop Las Casas, that the people feared to 
be burnt in their houses. They kept a watchful eye upon the 
moimtains, the plains, and the very branches of the trees. 
Their imaginations were infected by their fears. If they 
looked toward the land, the long, waving grass of the savan- 
nahs appeared to them to be moving hosts of Indians. If they 
looked towards the sea, they fancied they beheld fleets of 



VA^SUO i\U^KZ Din BALBOA. 1G5 

canoes in the distance. Pedrarias endeavoured to prevent all 
rumours from abroad that might increase this fevered state of 
alarm ; at the same tmie he ordered the smel ting-house to be 
closed, wliich was never done but in time of war. This was 
done at the suggestion of the Bishop, who caused prayers to 
be put up, and fasts proclaimed, to avert the impending 
calamities. 

While Pedrarias was harassed and perplexed by these com 
phcated evils, he was haunted by continual apprehensions of 
the ultimate ascendency of Yasco Nunez. He knew him to be 
beloved by the people, and befriended by the Bishop ; and he 
had received proofs that his services were highly apj)reciated 
by the king. He knew also that representations had been sent 
home by him and his partisans, of the evils and abuses of the 
colony under the present rule, and of the necessity of a more 
active and efl&cient governor. He dreaded lest these represen- 
tations shoiild ultimately succeed; that he should be xmder- 
mined in the royal favour, and Vasco Nunez be elevated upon 
his ruins. 

The poHtic bishop perceived the uneasy state of the gover- 
nor's mind, and endeavoui-ed, by means of his apprehensions, 
to effect that reconcihation which he had sought in vain to 
produce through more generous motives. He represented to 
him that his treatment of Vasco Nuiiez was odious in the eyes 
of the people, and must eventually draw on him the displea- 
sure of his sovereign. "But why persist," added he, "in 
driving a man to become your deadliest enemy, whom you 
may grapple to your side as your firmest friend? You have 
several daughters — give him one in marriage ; you will then 
have for a son-in-law a man of merit and popularity, who is a 
hidalgo by bii-th, and a favourite of the king. You are ad- 
vanced in hf e and infirm ; he is in the prime and vigour of his 
days, and possessed of great activity. You can make him 
your heutenant ; and while you repose from your toils, he can 
carry on the affairs of the colony with spii'it and enterprise: 
and all his achievements will redound to the advancement of 
your family and the splendour of your administration." 

The governor and his lady were won by the eloquence of 
the bishop and readily hstened to his suggestions ; and Vasco 
Nunez was but too happy to effect a reconcihation on such 
flattering terms. Written articles were accordingly drawn up 
and exchanged, contracting a marriage betv/een him and the 
eldest daughter of Pedrarias. The voune: ladv was then in 



166 SPANISH rOTAOKS OF D'SCOVERT. 

Spain, but was to be sent for, and tbe n iptials were to be cele- 
brated on her arrival at Darien. 

Having thus t'uHilled his office of peace-maker, and settled, 
as he supposed, all feuds and jealousies on the sure and per- 
manent foundation of family alliance, the worthy bishop de- 
parted shortly afterwards for Spain. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 



VASCO NUNEZ TRANSPORTS SHIPS ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS TO 
THE PACIFIC OCEAN.— (1516.) 

Behold Vasco Nuiiez once more in the high career of pros- 
perity ! His most implacable enemy had suddenly been con- 
verted into his dearest friend ; for the governor, now that ho 
looked upon him as his son-in-law, loaded him with favours. 
Above all, he authorized him to build brigantines and make all 
the necessary preparations for his long-desired expedition to 
explore the Southern Ocean. The place appointed for these 
purposes was the port of Careta, situated to the west of 
Darien ; f romi whence there was supposed to be the most con- 
venient route across the mountains. A town called Ada had 
been founded at this port; and the fortress was already 
erected, of which Lope de Olano was Alcalde; Vasco Nunez 
was now empowered to continue the building of the town. 
Two hundred men were placed under his command to aid him 
in carrying his plans into execution, and a sum of money was 
advanced to him out of the royal treasury. His supply of 
fimds, however, was not sufficient ; but he received assistance 
from a private source. There was a notary at Darien, named 
Hernando de Arguello, a man of some consequence in the com- 
munity, and who had been one of the most furious opponents 
of the unfortunate Nicuesa. He had amassed considerable 
property, and now embarked a great part of it in the proposed 
enterprise, on condition, no doubt, of sharing largely in its 
anticipated profits. 

On arriving at Ada, Vasco Nuiicz set to work to prepare 
the materials of foiir brigantines that were to be launched into 
the South Sea. The timber was felled on the Atlantic sea- 
board; and was then, with the anchors and rigging, trans 



VASCO NUBKZ DE BALBOA. 1G7 

ported across the lofty ridge of mountains to the opposite 
shores of the isthmus. Several Spaniards, thirty Negi'oes, and 
a great number of Indians were employed for the purpose. 
They had no other roads but Indian paths, stragghng through 
ahnost impervious forests, across torrents, and up rugged 
defiles, broken by rocks and precipices. In this way they 
toiled Like ants up the mountains, with their ponderous bur- 
thens, under the scorching rays of a tropical sun. Many of 
the poor Indians sank by the way and perished under this stu- 
pendous task. The Spaniards and Negroes, being of hardier 
constitutions, were better able to cope with the incredible 
hardships to which they were subjected. On the summit of 
the mountains a house had been provided for their temporary 
repose. After remaining here a httle time to refi^esh them- 
selves and gain new strength, they renewed their labours, 
descending the opposite side of the mountains imtil they 
reached the navigable part of a river, which they called the 
Balsas, and which flowed into the Pacific. 

Much time and trouble and many lives were expended on 
this arduous undertaking, before they had transported to the 
river sufiicient timber for two brigantines ; while the timber 
for the other two, and the rigging and munitions for the whole, 
yet remained to be brought. To add to theu' difficulties, they 
had scarcely begun to work upon the timber before they dis- 
covered that it was totally useless, being subject to the ravages 
of the worms from having been cut in the vicinity of salt 
water. They were obliged, therefore, to begin anew, and fell 
trees on the border of the river. 

Vasco Nunez maintained his patience and perseverance, and 
displayed admirable management under these delays and diffi- 
culties. Their supply of food being scanty, he divided his 
people, Spaniards, Negi'oes, and Indians, into three bands ; one 
was to cut and saw the wood, another to bring the rigging and 
iron-work from Ada, which was twenty -two leagues distant ; 
and the third to forage the neighbouring country for pro- 
visions. 

Scarcely was the timber felled and shaped for use when the 
rains set in, and the river swelled and overflowed its banks so 
suddenly, that the workmen barely escaped with then* lives 
by clambering into the trees ; while the wood on which they 
had been working was either buried in sand or slime, or s^v^ept 
away by the raging torrent. Famine was soon added to tkheir 
other distresses. The foraging party was absent and did not 



]08 SPAIflsn VOYAGES OF DISCO VERY. 

letuni with food; and the swelling of the river cut them off 
from that pait of the coimtry from whence they obtained their 
supplies. They were reduced, therefore, to such scarcity, as to 
be fain to assuage their hunger with such roots as they could 
gather in the forests. 

In this extremity the Indians bethought themselves of one 
of their rude and simple expedients. Phmging into the river 
they fastened a number of logs together with withes, and con- 
nected them with the opposite bank so as to make a floating 
bridge. On this a party of the Spaniards crossed with gi-eat 
difficulty and perO, from the violence of the current, and the 
flexibility of the bridge, which often sank beneath them until 
the water rose above their girdles. On being safely landed, 
they foraged the neighbourhood, and procm-ed a supply of pro- 
visions sufiicient for the present emergency. 

When the river subsided the workmen agaai resmned their 
labours; a number of recruits arrived from A(Ja, bringing 
various supplies, and the business of the enterprise ^as pressed 
with redoubled ardour, until, at length, after a series of in- 
credible toils and hardships, Vasco Nuilez had the satisfaction 
to behold two of his brigantines floating on the river Balsas. 
As soon as they could be equipped for sea, he embarked in 
them with as many Spaniards as they could carry ; and, itisu- 
ing forth from the river, launched triumphantly on the great 
ocean he had discovered. 

We can readily imagine the exultation of this intrepid ad- 
venturer, and how amply he was repaid for all his sufferings 
when he first spread a sail upon that untra versed ocean and 
felt that the range of an unknown world was open to him. 

There are points in the history of these Spanish discoveries 
of the western hemisphere that make us pause with wonder 
and admiration at the daring spirit of the men who conducted 
them and the appalling difficulties surmounted by their cour- 
age and perseverance. We know few instances, however, 
more striking than this piecemeal transportation across the 
mountains of Darien of the first European ships that ploughed 
the waves of the Pacific ; and we can readily excuse the boast 
of the old Castilian writers when they exclaim ' ' that none but 
Spaniards could ever have conceived or persisted in such an 
imderiaking, and no commander in the new world but Vasco 
Nunez could have conducted it to a successful issue." * 

♦ Herrera, d. ?. 1. H. c. K. 



VASCO NUNEZ BE BALBOA. 1G9 



CHAPTER XXV. 

CRUISE OF VASOO NTJSeZ IN THE SOUTHERN SEA — RUMOURS FROM 

ACLA. 

The first cruise of Vasco Nunez was to the group of Pearl 
islands, on the principal one of which he disembarked the 
greater part of his crews, and despatched the brigantines to the 
main land to bring off the remainder. It was his intention to 
construct the other two vessels of his proposed squadron at this 
island. During the absence of the brigantines he ranged the 
island with his men to collect provisions and to estabhsh a 
complete sway over the natives. On the return of his vessels, 
and while preparations were making for the building of the 
others, he embarked with a hundred men and departed on a 
reconnoitering cruise to the eastward towards the region 
pointed out by the Indians as abounding in riches. 

Having passed about twenty leagues beyond the Gulf of San 
Miguel, the mariners were filled with apprehension at behold- 
ing a great nmiiber of whales, which resembled a reef of rocks 
stretching far into the sea and lashed by breakers. In an un- 
known ocean like tliis every unusual object is apt to inspire 
alarm. The seamen feared to approach these fancied dangers 
in the dark; Vasco Nunez anchored, therefore, for the night 
under a point of land, intending to continue in the same direc- 
tion on the following day. When the morning dawned, how- 
ever, the wind had changed and was contrary ; wbereupon he 
altered his course and thus abandoned a cruise, which, if per- 
severed in, might have terminated in the discovery of Peru! 
Steering for the main land, he anchored on that part of the 
coast governed by the cacique Chuchama, who had massacred 
Bernardo Morales and his companions when reposing iia his 
village. Here landing with his men, Vasco Nuiiez came sud- 
denly upon the dwelling of the cacique. The Indians sallied 
forth to defend their homes, but were routed with great loss ; 
and ample vengeance was taken upon them for their outrage 
upon the laws of hospitahty. Having thus avenged the death 
of liis countrymen, Vasco Nunez re-embarked and returned to 
Isla Rica. 

He now applied himself diligently to complete the building 
of his brigantines, despatching men to Ada to bring the neces- 



170 ,Sl^AiyiSir VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

sary stores and rigging across the mountains. While thus 
occupied, a rumour reached him that a new governor named 
Lope de Sosa was coming out from Spain to supersede Pedra- 
rias. Vasco Nuiiez was troubled at these tidings. A new gov- 
ernor would be likely to adopt new measures, or to have new 
favourites. He feared, therefore, that some order might come 
to suspend or embarrass his expedition, or that the command 
of it might be given to another. In his perplexity he held a 
consultation with several of his confidential officers. 

After some debate, it was agreed among them that a trusty 
and intelligent person should be sent as a scout to Ada un- 
der pretence of procuring munitions for the ships. Should 
he find Pedrarias in quiet possession of the government, he 
was to account to him for the delay of the expedition ; to re- 
quest that the time allotted to it might be extended, and to 
request reinforcements and supplies. Should he find, however, 
that a new governor was actually arrived, he was to return 
immediately with the tidings. In such case it was resolved to 
put to sea before any contrary orders could arrive, trusting 
eventually to excuse themselves on the plea of zeal and good 
intentions. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 



RECONNOITERINa EXPEDITION OF GARABITO — STRATAGEM OP 
PEDRARIAS TO ENTRAP VASCO NUSEZ. 

The person entrusted with the reconnoitering expedition to 
Ada was Andres Garabito, in whose fidelity and discretion 
Vasco Nufiex had implicit confidence. His confidence was 
destined to be fatally deceived. According to the assertions of 
'contemporaries, this Garabito cherished a secret and vindic- 
tive enmity against his commander, arising from a simple but 
a natural cause. Vasco Nufiez had continued to have a fond- 
ness for the Indian damsel, daughter of the cacique Careta, 
whom he had received from her father as a pledge of amity. 
Some dispute arose concerning her on one occasion between 
him and Garabito, in the course of which he expressed himself 
in severe and galling language. Gai-abito was deeply morti- 
fied at some of his expressions, and, being of a malignant 
spirit, determined on a dastardly revenge. He wrote pri- 



VASOO NUJ^EZ DE BALBOA. 17| 

vately to Pedrarias, assuring him that Vasco Nmiez had no 
intention of solemniziag his mai-riage with his daughter, being 
completely under the influence of an Indian paramour; that 
he made use of the friendsliip of Pedrarias merely to further 
his own selfish views, intending, as soon as his ships were 
ready, to throw off all allegiance, and to put to sea as an inde- 
pendent commander. 

This miscliievous letter Garabito had written immediately 
after the last departure of Vasco Nuiiez from Ada. Its effects 
upon the proud and jealous sjMrit of the governor may easily 
be conceived. All his former suspicions were immediately re- 
vived. They acquired strength during a long interval that 
elapsed without tiduags being received from the expedition. 
There were designing and prejudiced persons at hand who per- 
ceived and quickened these jealous feelings of the governor. 
Among these was the Bachelor Corral, who cherished a deep 
grudge against Vasco Nuiiez for having once thrown him into 
pi'ison for his factious conduct ; and Alonzo de la Puente, the 
royal treasurer, whom Vasco Nuiiez had affronted by demand- 
ing the re-payment of a loan. Such was the tempest that was 
gi'adually gathering in the factious little colony of Darien. 

The subsequent conduct of Garabito gives much confirma- 
tion to the charge of perfidy that has been advanced against 
him. When he arrived at Ada he found that Pedi-arias re- 
mained ia possession of the government; for his intended 
successor had died m the very harbour. The conduct and 
conversation of Garabito was such as to arouse suspicions; he 
was arrested, and his papers and letters were sent to Pedra- 
rias. When examined he readily suffered himself to be 
wrought upon by threats of punishment and promises of 
pardon, and revealed all that he knew, and declared stUl more 
that he suspected and surmised, of the plans and intentions of 
Vasco Nunez. 

The arrest of Garabito, and the seizure of his letters, pro- 
duced a great agitation at Darien. It was considered a revival 
of the ancient animosity between the governor and Vasco 
Nuiiez, and the friends of the latter trembled for his safety. 

Hernando de Arguello, especially, was in great alarm. He 
had embarked the most of his fortune in the expedition, and 
the failure of it would be ruiaous to him. He wrote to Vasco 
Nuiiez, informing him of the critical posture of affaiiT3, and 
urging him to put to sea without delay. He would be pro- 
tected at all events, he said, by the Jcronimite Fathers at San 



172 SPAmSH VOYAGES Or DISCOVERT. 

Domingo, who were at that time all-powerful in the new 
world, and who regarded his expedition as calculated to pro- 
mote the glory of God as vv'ell as the dominion of the king.* 
This letter fell into the hands of Pedrtirias, and convinced him 
of the existence of a dangerous plot against his authority. He 
immediately ordered Ai-guello to be arrested ; and now devised 
means to get Vasco Nuiiez ^vithin liis power. While the latter 
remained on the shores of the South Sea with his brigantines 
and his band of hearty and devoted followers, Pedrarias knew 
that it would be in vain to attempt to take him by force. 
Dissembling his suspicions and intentions, therefore, he wrote 
to him in the most amicable terms, requesting him to repair 
immediately to Ada, as he wished to hold a conference with 
him about the impending expedition. Fearing, however, that 
Vasco Nuiiez might suspect his motives and refuse to comply, 
he, at the same tune, ordered Francisco Pizarro to muster all 
the armed force he could collect, and to seek and arrest his 
late patron and commander wherever he might be found. 

So great was the terror inspired by the arrest of ArgueUo, 
and by the general violence of Pedrarias, that, though Vasco 
Nmiez was a favourite with the gi-eat mass of the people, no 
one ventured to warn him of the danger that attended his 
return to Ada. 



CHAPTER XXVII. 
VASCO nuiJez and the astrologer— his return to acla. 

The old Spanish writers who have treated of the fortunes of 
Vasco Nunez, record an anecdote which is worthy of being 
cited, as characteristic of the people and the age. Among the 
motley crowd of adventurers lured across the ocean by the 
reputed wealth and wonders of the new world, was an Italian 

♦ In consequence of the eloquent representations made to the Spanish Govern- 
ment by the venerable Las Casas, of the cruel wrongs and oppressions practised 
upon the Indians in the colonies, the Cardinal Ximenes, iu 1516, sent out three 
Jeronimite Friars, chosen for their zeal and abilities, clothixl with full powers to 
inquire into and remedy all abuses, and to take all proper measures for the good 
govermnent, religious instruction, and effectual protection of the natives. The 
exercise of their powers at San Domingo made a great sensation in the new world, 
and, for a time, had a beneficial effect in checking th« oppressive and licentiouc 
conduct of the colonists. 



VASCO NUISKZ DK BALBOA. 173 

astrologer, a native of Venice, named Micer Codro. At the 
time that Vasco Nunez held supreme sway at Darien, this 
reader of the stars had cast his horoscope, and pretended to 
foretell his destiny. Pointing one night to a certain star, he 
assured him that in the year in which he should behold that 
star in a part of the heavens wliich he designated, his life 
would be in imminent jeopaixly ; but should he survive this 
year of peril, he would become the richest and most renowned 
captain throughout the Indies. 

Several years, it is added, had elapsed since this prediction 
was made ; yet, that it still dwelt in the mind of Vasco Nmiez, 
was evident from the following circumstance. While waiting 
the return of his messenger, Garabito, he was on the shore of 
Isla Rica one serene evening, in company with some of his 
officers, when, regarding the heavens, he beheld the fated star 
exactly in that part of the firmament which had been pointed 
out by the Itahan astrologer. Tui^ning to his companions, 
with a srmle, ' ' Behold, " said he, ' ' the wisdom of those who 
believe in sooth-sayers, and, above all, in such an astrologer as 
Micer Codro ! According to his prophecy, I should now bo in 
imminent peril of my life ; yet, here I atn, within reach of all 
my wishes ; soimd in health, with four brigantines and three 
hundred men at my command, and on the point of exploring 
this great southern ocean." 

At this fated juncture, say the chroniclers, arrived the 
hypocritical letter of Pedrarias, inviting him to an interview 
at Ada! The discreet reader will decide for himself what 
credit to give to this anecdote, or rather what allowance to 
make for the little traits of coincidence gratuitously added to 
the original fact by wi-iters who deUght in the marvellous. 
The tenor of this letter awakened no suspicion in the breast of 
Vasco Nunez, who reposed entire confidence in the amity ot 
the governor as his intended father-in-law, and appears to 
have been unconscious of any thing in his own conduct that 
^ could warrant hostility. Leaving his ships in command of 
A. raacisco Companon, he departed immediately to meet the 
governor at Ada, unattended by any armed force. 

The messengei-s who had brought the letter maintained at 
first a cautious silence as to the events which had transpired 
at Darien, They were gradually won, however, by the frank 
and genial manners of Vasco Nunez, and grieved to see so gal- 
lant a soldier hurrying into the snare. Having crossed the 
mountains and drawn near to Ada, their kind feelings got tho 



J 74 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

better of their caution, and they revealed the true nature of 
their errand, and the hostile intentions of Pedrarias. Vasco 
Nuiiez was struck with astonisliment at the recital ; but, being 
xuiconscious, it is said, of any evil intention, he could scarcely 
credit this sudden hostihty in a man who had but recently 
promised him his daughter in marriage. He imagined the 
whole to be some groundless jealousy wliich his own appeal • 
ance would dispel, and accordingly continued on his journey. 
He had not proceeded far, however, when he was met by a 
band of armed men, led by Francisco Pizarro. The latter 
stepped forward to arrest his ancient commander. Vasco 
Nunez paused for a moment, and regarded him with a look 
of reproachful astonishment. "How is this, Francisco?" ex- 
claimed he. "Is this the way you have been accustomed to 
receive me?" Offering no fui-ther remonstrance, he suffered 
himself quietly to be taken prisoner by his former adherent, 
and conducted in chams to Ada. Here he was thrown into 
prison, and Bartolome Hurtado, once his favourite officer, was 
Bent to take command of his squadron. 



CHAPTER XXVIH. 

TRIAL OF VASCO NUNEZ. 

Don Pedrarias concealed his exultation at the success of the 
stratagem by which he had ensnared his generous and con- 
fiding rival. He even visited him in prison, and pretended 
deep concern at being obliged to treat him with this tem- 
porary rigour, attributing it entirely to certain accusations 
lodged against him by the Treasurer Alonzo de la Puente, 
which his official situation compelled him to notice and inves- 
tigate. 

" Be not afflicted, however, my son!" said the hypocrite, "an 
investigation will, doubtless, rot merely establish your inno- 
cence, but serve to render your zeal and loyalty towards your 
sovereign still more conspicuous." 

While Pedrarias assimaed tliis soothing tone towards his 
prisoner, he urged the Alcalde Mayor Espinosa to proceed 
against him with the utmost rigour of the law, 
^ The charge brought against him of a treasonable conspiracy 



VASCO jyUJVKZ DE BALBOA. 175 

to cast off all allegiance to the crown, and to assume an inde- 
pendent sway on the borders of the Southern Sea, was princi- 
pally supported by the confessions of Andres Garabito. The 
evidence is also cited of a soldier, who stood sentinel one night 
near the quarters of Vasco Nuiiez on Isla Rica, and who, behig 
driven to take shelter from the rain iinder the eaves of 
the house, overheard a conversation between that conunand- 
er and certain of his officers, wherein they agreed to put to 
sea with the squadron on their own account, and to set the 
governor at defiance. This testimony, according to Las Casas, 
arose from a misconstruction on the part of the sentinel, who 
only heard a portion of their conversation, relating to theu" in- 
tention of saOing without waiting for orders, in case a new gov- 
ernor should arrive to supersede Pedrarias. 

The governor in the mean time infoi'med himself from day to 
day and hour to houi' of the jirogress of the trial, and, consid- 
ering the evidence sufficiently strong to warrant his personal 
hostihty, he now paid another visit to his prisoner, and, thi'ow- 
ing off all affectation of kindness, upbraided him in the most 
passionate manner. 

"Hitherto," said he, "I have treated you as a son, because I 
thought you loyal to yovu' king, and to me as his representa- 
tive ; but as I find you have meditated rebeUion agamst the 
crown of CastUe, I cast you off from my affections, and shall 
henceforth treat you as an enemy." 

Vasco Nuiiez indignantly repelled the charge, and appealed 
to the confiding frankness of his conduct as a proof of inno- 
cence. "Had I been conscioiLS of my guilt," said he, "what 
could have induced me to come here and put myself into your 
hands? Had I meditated rebellion, Avhat prevented me from 
carrying it into effect? I had four ships ready to weigh anchor, 
three hundred brave men at my command, and an open sea 
before me. What had I to do but to spread sail and press for- 
ward? There was no doubt of finding a land, whether rich or 
poor, sufficient for me and mine, far beyond the reach of your 
control. In the innocence of my heart, however, I came here 
promptly, at your mere request, and my reward is slander, in- 
dignity, and chains !" 

The noble and ingenuous appeal of Yasco Nuiiez had no effect 
on the prejudiced feehngs of the governor; on the contrary, ho 
was but the more exasperated against his prisoner, and ordered 
that his irons should be doubled. 

The trial was now urged by him with increased eagerness. 



170 Slwmsn VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

Lest the present accusation should not be sufficient to effect 
the ruin of liis victim, the old inquest into his conduct as 
governor, wliicli had remained suspended for many years, was 
revived, and he was charged anew Avith the wrongs inflicted 
on the Bachelor Enciso, and with the death of the unfortunate 
Nicuesa. 

Kotmthstanding all these charges, the trial went on slowly, 
with frequent delays ; for the Alcalde Mayor, Gaspar de Espi- 
nosa, seems to have had but little rehsh for the task assigned 
him, and to have needed frequent spurring from the eager and 
passionate governor. He probably considered the accused as 
technically guilty, though innocent of all intentional rebellion, 
but was ordered to decide according to the strict letter of the 
law. He therefore at length gave a reluctant verdict agamst 
Vasco Nunez, but recommended him to mercy, on account of 
his great services, or entreated that, at least, he might be per- 
mitted to appeal. " No !" said the unrelenting Pedrarias. "If 
he has merited death, let him suffer death !" He accordingly 
condemned him to be beheaded. The same sentence was 
passed upon several of liis officers who were imphcated in his 
alleged conspiracy ; among these was Hernando de Argue! lo, 
who had wi-itten the letter to Vasco Nuniiez, inforaiing him of 
the arrest of his messenger, and advising him to put to sea, 
without heeding the hostility ot Pedrarias. As to the perfidi- 
ous informer Garabito, he was pardoned and set at liberty. 

In considering this case, as tar as we are enabled, from the 
imperfect testimony that remains on record, we are inclined to 
think it one where passion and self-interest interfered with the 
pure administration of justice. Pedrarias had always consid- 
ered Vasco Nuiiez as a dangerous rival, and, though his jeal- 
ousy had been for some tune lidled by looking on him as an 
intended son-in-law, it was revived by the suggestion that he 
intended to evade his alliance, and to dispute his authority. 
His exasperated feehngs hurried him too far to retreat, and, 
having loaded his prisoner Avith chains and indignities, his 
death became indispensable to his own security. 

For our own part, we have little doubt that it was the fixed 
intention of Vasco Nuiiez, after he had once svicceeded in 
the arduous undertaking of transporting his ships across the 
mountains, to suffer no capricious order from Pedrarias, or 
any other governor, to defeat the enterprise which he had so 
long meditated, and for which he had so laboriously prepared. 
It is probable he may have expressed such general determina* 



YASCO NUNEZ DE BALBOA. 177 

tion in the hearing of Garabito and of others of his companions. 
We can find ample excuse for such a resokition in his con- 
sciousness of his own deserts ; his experience of past hindrances 
to his expedition, arising from the jealousy of others ; his feel- 
ing of some degree of authority, from his office of Adelantado ; 
and his knowledge of the favourable disposition and kind 
intentions of his sovereig-n towards him. We acquit him 
entirtsly of the senseless idea of rebeUing against the crown ; 
and suggest these considerations in paUiation of any meditated 
disobedience of Pedrarias, should such a charge be supposed to 
have been substantiated. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

EXECUTION OP VASCO NUNEZ.— (1517.) 

fT was a day of gloom and horror at Ada, when Vasco Nufiez 
ii>id his companions were led forth to execution. The populace 
v/ere moved to tears at the unhappy fate of a man whose gal- 
lant deeds hid excited their admiration, and whose generous 
qualities had won their hearts. Most of them regarded liim as 
the victim of a jealous tyrant ; and even those who thought 
him guilty, saw sometliing brave and brdhant in the very crime 
imputed to him. Such, however, was the general dread mspired 
by the severe measiu-es of Pedrarias, that no one dared to lift 
up his voice, either in mui'mur or remonstrance. 

The public crier walked before Vasco NuHcz, procliiminT, 
"This is the punishment inflicted hy command of th'-^ kinn" -''■ 1 
his heutenant, Don Pedrarias Davila, on this man, as a trait&A 
and an usurper of the territories of the crov.m." 

When Vasco Nufiez heard these words, he exclaimed indig- 
nantly, " It is false ! never did such a crime enter my mind. I 
have ever served my king with tnith and loyalty, and sought 
to augment his dominions." 

These words were of no avaU in his extremity, but they were 
fully believed by the populace. 

Tlie execution took place in the public square of Ada ; and 
we are assured by the historian, Oviedo, who was in the colony 
at the time, that the ci-uel Pedrarias was a secret witness of 
the bloody spectacle, which he contemplated from between the 



178 sPAjyisu yoyAGh-n of viscovery. 

reeds of the wall of a house, about twelve paces from the scaf- 
fold!* 

Vasco Nuuez was the first to suffer death. Having confessed 
himself and partaken of tJie sacrament, he ascended the scaffold 
with a firm step and a cahn and manly demeanour ; and lay- 
ing his head upon the block, it was severed in an instant from 
his body. Thi-ee of his officers, Valderrabano, Boiello, and 
Hernan Muiios, were in hke manner brought one by one to the 
block, and the day had nearly expired before the last of them 
was executed. 

One victim still remained. It was Hernan de Arguello, who 
had been condemned as an accomphce, for naving written the 
intercepted letter. 

The populace could no longer restrain their feelings. They 
had not dared to intercede for Vasco Nuiiez, knowing the im- 
placable enmity of Pedrarias ; but they now sought the gover- 
nor, and throwing themselves at his feet, entreated that this 
man might be spared, as he had taken no active part in the 
alleged treason. The daylight, they said, was at an end, audit 
seemed as if God had hastened the night, to prevent the execu- 
tion. 

The stem heart of Pedrarias was not to be touched. "No," 
said he, "I would sooner die myself than spare one of them.'' 
The unfortunate Arguello was led to the block. The brief 
tropical twilight was pas-t, and in the gathering gloom of the 
night the operations on the scaffold could not be distinguished. 
The multitude stood listening in breathless silence, until the 
stroke of the executioner told that all was accomphshed. They 
then dispersed to their homes with hearts filled with grief and 
bitterness, and a night of lamentation succeeded to this day of 
horrors. 

The vengeance of Pedrarias was not satisfisd with the death 
of his victim ; he confiscated his property and dishonoured his 
remains, causing his head to be placed upon a pole and exposed 
for several days in the public square.! 

Thus perished, in his forty-second year, in the prime and 
vigour of his days and the full career of his glory, one of the 
most illustrious and deserving of the Spanish discoverers— a 
victim to the basest and most perfidious envy. 

How vain are our most confident hopes, our brightest tri- 
umphs I When Vasco Nunez from the mountains of Darien 

* f»vie(lii. Hist. Iiifl. p. 3. c. 9. MS. tOviedo. ubi sup. 



VASCO NU:^EZ BE BALBOA. 179 

beheld the Southern Ocean revealed to his gaze, he considered 
its unknown realms at his disposal. When he had launched 
his ships upon its waters, and his saOs were in a manner flap- 
ping in the wind, to bear him in quest of the wealthy empire of 
Peru, he scofEed at the prediction of the astrologer, and defied 
the influence of the stars. Behold him interrupted at the very- 
moment of his departure ; betrayed into the hands of his most 
invidious foe ; the very enterprise that was to have crowned 
him with glory wrested iato a crime ; and himself hurried to a 
bloody and ignominious grave, at the foot, as it were, of the 
mountain from whence he had made his discovery ! His fate, 
like that of his renowned predecessor, Columbus, proves that 
it is sometimes dangerous even to discern too greatly ! 



180 SPAm.^JI VO Y AG K8 OF DISCOVERT. 



THE FORTUNES OF VALDIVIA AND HIS COM- 
PANIONS. 



It was in the year 1512 that Valdivia, the regklor of Darien, 
was sent to Hispaniola by Vasco Nunez de Balboa for re?i?- 
forcements and suppUes for the colony. He set sail in a cara- 
vel, and piu-sued his voyage prosperously until he an-ived in 
sight of the Island of Jamaica. Here he was encountered by 
one of the violent hurricanes which sweep those latitudes, and 
driven on the shoals and sunken rocks called the Vipei-s, since 
infamous for many a sliipwreck. His vessel soon went to 
pieces, and Valdivia and his crew, consisting of twenty men, 
escaped with difficulty in the boat, without having time to 
secure a supply either of water or provisions. Having no sails, 
and their oars being scarcely fit for use, they were driven 
about for thirteen days, at the mercy of the currents of those 
unknown seas. During this time their sufferings from hunger 
and thirst were indescribable. Seven of their number pei'ishcd, 
and the rest were nearly famished, when they were stranded 
on the eastern coast of Yucatan, in a province called Maya. 
Here they were set upon by the natives, who broke their boat 
in pieces, and carried them off captive to the cacique of the 
province, by whose orders they were mewed up in a kind of 
pen. 

At first their situation appeared tolerable enough considering 
the horrors from which they had escaped. They wore closely 
confined, it is true, but they had plenty to eat and drink, and 
soon began to recover flesh and vigour. In a little wliile, how- 
ever, their enjoyment of this good cheer met with a sudden 
check, for the unf ortvmate Valdivia, and iowr of his companions, 
were singled out by the caciciue, on account of their improved 
condition, to be offered up to his idols. The natives of tlud 
coast in fact were cannibals, devouring the flesh of their enemies 
and of such strangers as fell into tbeir hands. The wretched 
Valdivia and his fellow victis;:^, therefore, were sacrificed in 



TUE FGETUNES OF VALDIVIA. 181 

the bloody temple of the idol, and their limbs afterwards served 
up at a grand fea.st held by the cacique and his subjects. 

The horror of tlie survivors may be more readily imagmed 
than described. Their hearts died within them when they 
he "ird the yells and bowlings of the savages over their \actims, 
and the stiU more horiible revelry of their cannibal orgies. 
They turned with loathing from the food set so abundantly be- 
fore th3m. at the idea that it was but intended to fatten them 
for a future banquet. 

Recovering from the first stupor of alarm, their despair' lent 
them additional force. They succeeded in breaking, in the 
night, from the kmd of cage in which they were confined, and 
fled to the depths of the forest. Here they wandered about 
forlorn, exposed to all the dangers and miseries of the wilder- 
ness; famishing with hunger, yet dreading to approach the 
haunts of men. At length their sufferings drove them forth 
from the woods into another part of the country, where they 
were again taken captive. The cacique of this province, how- 
ever, was an eneiny to the one from whom they had escaped, 
and of less cruel propensities. He spared their hves, and con- 
tented himself with making them slaves, exacting fi'om them 
the severest labour. They had to cut and draw Avood, to pro- 
cure water from a distance, and to carry enormous burthens. 
The cacique died soon after their capture, and was succeeded 
by another called Taxmar. He Avas a chief of some talent and 
sagacity, but he continued the same rigorous treatment of the 
captives. By degrees they sank beneath the hardships of their 
lot, until only two were left; one of them, a sturdy sailor 
named Gcnnzalo Guerrero, the other a kind of clerical adven- 
turer, named Jeronimo de Aguilar. The sailor had the good 
luck to be transferred to the service of the cacique of the neigh- 
bouring province of Chatemal, by whom he was treated Avith 
kindness. Being a thorough son of the ocean, seasoned to all 
weathers, and ready for any chance or change, he coon accom- 
modated himself to his new situation, followed the cacique to 
the wars, rose by his hardihood and prowess to be a distin- 
guished warrior, and succeeded in gaining tlio heart and hand 
of an Indian princess. 

The other survivor, Jeronimo de Aguilar, was of a difi'ercnt 
complexion. He was a native of Ecija in Andalusia, and had 
been brought up to the church and regularly ordained, and 
shortly afterwards had sailed m one of the expeditions to San 
Domingo, from whence he had passed to Darien. 



182 ."iPAMSII VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY. 

ITe proceeded in a different mode fi-om that adopted by hia 
comrade the eailor in his deahngs with the Indians, and in one 
more suited to his opposite calling. Instead of playing the hero 
among the men and the gallant among the women, he recol- 
lected his priestly obhgations to humility and chastity. Ac- 
cordingly, he made himself a model of meekness and obedi- 
ence to the cacique and his warriors, while he closed his eye^ 
to the charms of the infidel women. Nay, in the latter re- 
spect, ho reuiforced liis clerical vows by a solemn promise to 
God to resist all temptations of the flesh so he might be dehv- 
ei'cd out of the hands of these Gentiles. 

Such were the opposite measures of the sailor and the saint, 
and they appear to have been equally successful. Aguilar, by 
liis meek obedience to every order, however arbitraiy and 
capricious, gradually won the good-will of the cacique and his 
family. Taxmar, however, subjected him to many trials be- 
fore he admitted him to his entire confidence. One day when 
the Indians, paiijted and decorated in wai'hke style, were 
shooting at a mark, a warrior, who had for some tune fixed 
his eyes on Aguilar, approached suddenly and seized him by 
the arm. " Thou seest," said he, " the certainty of these ai'ch- 
ers; if they aim at the eye, they hit the eje — if at the mouth, 
they hit the mouth — what wouldst thou think if thou wert to 
be placed instead of the mark and they were to shoot at and 
miss thee?'" 

Aguilar secretly trembled lest he should be the victim of 
some cruel caprice of the kind. Dissembling liis feai-s, how- 
ever, he replied with great submission, "lam your slave and 
you may do with me as you please, but you are too wise to 
destroy a slave who is so useful aud obedient." His answer 
pleased the cacique, who had secretly sent this warrior to try 
his humility. 

Another trial of the worthy Jeronimo was less stern and 
fearfid indeed, but equally perplexing. The cacique had re- 
marked his unexampled discretion with respect to the sex, but 
doubted his sincerity. After laying many petty temptatiojis 
in his way, which Jeronimo resisted with the self-denial of a 
saint, he at length determined to subject him to a fiery ordeal. 
He accordingly sent him on a fisliing expedition accompanied 
by a buxom damsel of fourteen years of age; they were to pass 
the night by the sea-side, so as to be ready to fish at the fii"st 
dawn of day, and were alloAved but one hammock to sleep in. 
It ^ras an embarrassing predicament- not apparently to the 



TllM FORTUNES OF VALDIVIA. 183 

Indian beauty, but certainly to the scrupulous Jeronimo. He 
remembered, however, his double vow, and, suspending his 
hammock to two trees, resigned it to his companion; while, 
lighting a fire on the sea-shore, he stretched himself before it 
on the sand. It was, as he acknowledged, a night of fearful 
trial, for his sandy couch was cold and cheerless, the hammock 
warm and tempting; and the infidel damsel had been in- 
structed to assail him with all manner of blandishments and 
reproaches. His resolution, however, though often shaken, 
was never overcome ; and the morning dawned upon him still 
faithful to his vow. 

The fishing over, he returned to the residence of the cacique, 
where his companion, being closely questioned, made known 
the triumph of his self-denial before all the people. From that 
time forward he was held in great respect ; the cacique espe- 
cially treated him with unhmited confidence, entrusting to him 
the care not merely of his house, but of his wives dui'ing Ms 
occasional absence. 

AgTiilar now felt amxbitious of rising to greater consequence 
among the savages, but this he knew was only to be done by 
deeds of arms. He had the example of the sturdy seaman, 
Gonzalo Guerrero, before his eyes, who had become a great 
captain in the province in which he resided. He entreated 
Taxm.ar, therefore, to entrust him with bow and arrows, buck- 
ler and war-club, and to enroll him among his warriors. The 
cacique comphed. Aguilar soon made himself expert at his 
new weapons, signalized himself repeatedly in battle, and, 
from his superior knowledge of the arts of war, rendered Tax- 
mar such essential service, as to excite the jealousy of some of 
the neighbouring caciques. One of them remonstrated with 
Taxmar for employing a warrior who was of a different religion, 
and insisted that Aguilar should be saci'ificed to their gods, 
"No," replied Taxmar, "I will not make so base a retm-n 
for such signal services; surely the gods of Aguilar must be 
good, since they aid him so effectually in maintaining a just 
cause." 

The cacique was so incensed at this reply that he assembled 
his warriors and marched to make Avar upon Taxmar. Many 
of the counsellors of the latter urged him to give up the 
stranger who w»as the cause of this hostility. Taxmar, how- 
ever, rejected their counsel with disdain and prepared for bat- 
tle. Aguilar assured him that liis faith in the Christian's God 
would bo rowai-ded with victory i he, in fact, concerted a plan 



184 SPA^'JSJI VOTAOKS OF DISVOVERY. 

of battle which was adopted. Concealing himself with a 
chosen band of Avarriors among tliickets and herbage, ho suf- 
fered the oneiuy to pass by in making their attack. Taxmar 
and his host pretended to give way at the first onset. The foe 
rushed heedlessly in pursuit; whereupon Agiiilar and his am- 
buscade assaulted thcni in tlie rear. Taxmar turned upon 
them in front; they were thrown in confusion, routed with 
great slaughter, and many of theii* chiefs taken piisoners. 
This victory gave Taxmar the sway over the land, and 
strengthened Aguilar more than ever in his good graces. 

Several years had elapsed in this manner, when, in. 1517, 
intelligence was brought to the province of the ai-rival on the 
neighbouring' coast of great vessels of wonderful construction, 
filled with wliite and bearded men, wlio fought with thunder 
and lightning. It was, in fact, the squadron of Francisco 
Hernandez de Cordova, then on a voyage of discovery. The 
tidings of tliis strange invasion spread consternation through 
the country, heightened, if we may credit the old Spanish 
writers, by a prophecy current among the savages of these 
parts, and uttered in former times by a priest named Cliilam 
Cambal, who foretold that a white and bearded people would 
come from the region of the rising sun, who would overturn 
their idols and subjugate the land. 

The heart of Jeronimo de Aguilar beat quick with hope when 
he heard of European ships at hand ; he was distant from the 
coast, however, and perceived that he was too closely watched 
l>y the Indians to have any chance of escape. Dissembling his 
feelings, therefore, he affected to hear of the ships with per- 
fect indifference, and to have no desire to join the strangers. 
The ships disappeared from the coast, and he remained dis- 
consolate at heart, but was regarded with increased confidence 
by the natives. 

His hopes were again revived in the course of a year or two 
by the arrival on the coast of other ships, which were those 
commanded by Juan de Grijalva, who coasted Yucatan in 
151.S; Aguilar, however, was again prevented by the jealous 
watchfulness of the Indians from attempting his escape, and 
when this squadron left the coast he considered all chance of 
deliverance at an end. 

Seven years had gone by since his capture, and he had given 
up all hopes of being restored to his country and friends, when, 
in 1519, there arrived one day at the village three Indians, 
natives of the small island ot Cozumel, which lies a few 



TEE FORTUNES OF VALBIVIA. 185 

leagues in the sea, opposite the eastern coast of Yucatan. 
They brought tidings of another visit of white bearded men 
to their shores, and one of them dehverod a letter to Aguiiar, 
which, baing entirely naked, he had concealed it in the long 
tresses of liis hair which were bound round his head. 

Aguiiar received the letter with wonder and dehght, and 
read it in presence of the cacique and his warriors. It proved 
to be from Hernando Cortez, who was at that time on his 
great expedition, wnich ended in the conquest of Mexico. He 
had been obUged by stress of weather to anchor at the island 
of Cozumel, where he learned from the natives that several 
white men were detained in captivity among the Indians on 
the neighbouring coast of Yucatan. Findmg it impossible to 
approach the mainland with his ships, he prevailed upon three 
of the islanders, by means of gifts and promises, to venture 
upon an embassy among their cannibal neighbours, and to 
convey a letter to the captive white nien. Two of the smallest 
caravels of the squadron were sent under the command of 
Diego de Ordas, who was ordered to land the three messengers 
at the point of Cotoche. and to wait there eight days for their 
return. 

The letter brought by these envoys informed the Christian 
captives of the force and destination of the squadron of Cortez, 
and of Ills having sent the caravels to wait for them at the 
point of Cotoche, with a ransom for their deliverance, inviting 
them to hasten and join liim at Cozumel. 

The transport of Aguiiar on first reading the letter was mod- 
erated when he reflected on the obstacles that might prevent 
him from profiting by this chance of deliverance. He had 
made himself too useful to the cacique to hope that he would 
readily give him his hberty, and he knew the jealous and irri- 
table nature of the savages too well not to fear that even an 
application for leave to depart might draw upon him the 
severest treatment. He endeavoured, therefore, to operate 
upon the cacique through his apprehensions. To this end ho 
iiiformed him that the piece of paper wliich he held in his 
hand brought him a full account of the mighty armament that 
had arrived on the coast. He described the number of the 
ships and various particulars concerning the squadron, all 
which were amp]y con'oborated by the testimony of the mes- 
sengers. The cacique and his warriors were astonished at this 
strange mode of conveying intelligence from a distance, and 
regarded the letter as something mysterious and supernatural. 



186 SFANIi^n VOYAGES OF 1>ISC0VP]RT. 

Agviilar went on to relate the tremendous and superhuman 
powers of the people in these ships, who, armed with thunder 
and hghtning, wreaked destruction on all who displeased 
them, while they dispensed inestimable gifts and benefits on 
such as proved themselves their friends. He at the same time 
spread before the cacique various presents brought by the 
messengers, as specimens of the blessings to be expected from 
the friendship of the strangers. The intimation was etfectual. 
The cacique was filled with awe at the recital of the terrific 
powers of the white men, and his eyes were dazzled by the 
ghttering trinkets displayed before hun. He entreated Aguilar, 
therefore, to act as his ambassador and mediator, and to 
secure him the amity of the strangers. 

Aguilar saw with transport the prospect of a speedy deliver- 
ance. In this moment of exultation, he bethought himself of 
the only surviving comrade of his past fortunes, Gonzalo 
Guerrero, and, sending the letter of Cortez to him, invited 
him to accompany hun in liis escape. The sturdy seaman 
was at this time a great chieftain in Iris province, and his 
Indian bride had borne him a nmnerous progeny. His heart, 
however, yearned after his native country, and he might have 
been tempted to leave his honoiu's and dignities, his infidel 
wife and half -savage offspring behind him, but an insuperable, 
though somewhat ludicrous, obstacle presented itself to liis 
wishes. Having long since given over all expectation of a 
return to civilized life, he had conformed to the customs of 
the country, and had adopted the external signs and decolla- 
tions that marked him as a warrior and a man of raiik. His 
face and hands Avere indelibly painted or tattooed ; liis ears 
and lips were slit to admit huge Indian ornaments, and his 
nose was drawn down almost to his mouth by a massy rmg of 
. gold, and a dangling jewel. 

Thus curiously garbled and disfigured, the honest seaman 
felt, that however he might be admired in Yucatan, he should 
be apt to have the rabble at his heels in Spain. He made up 
his mind, therefore, to remain a great man among the sav- 
ages, rather than run the risk of being shown as a man- 
monster at home. 

Finding that he declined accompanying him, Jeronimo de 
Aguilar set off for the point of Cotoche, escorted by three 
Indians. The time he had lost in waiting for Guerrero had 
nearly proved fatal to his hopes, for when he arrived at the 
point, the caravels sent by Cortez had departed, though sev' 



THE FORTUNES OF VALDIVIA. 187 

eral crosses of reeds set up in different places gave tokens of 
the recent presence of Christians. 

The only hope that remained, was that the squadron of 
Cortez might yet linger at the opposite island of Coziunel ; but 
flow was he to get there? While wandering disconsolately along 
the shoi'e, he found a canoe, half buried in sand and water, 
and with one side in a state of decay ; with the assistance of 
the Indians he cleaned it, and set it afloat, and on looking! 
further he found the stave of a hogshead which might serve ' 
for a paddle. It was a frail embarkation in which to cross an 
arm of the sea, seven leagues wide, but there was no alter- 
native. Prevaihng on the Indians to accompany him, he 
launched forth in the canoe and coasted the main land until 
he came to the narrowest part of the strait, where it was but 
four leagues across ; here he stood directly for Cozumel, con- 
tending, as well as he was able, with a strong current, and at 
length succeeded in reaching the island. 

He had scarce landed when a party of Spaniards, who had 
been lymg in wait, rushed forth from their concealment, sword 
in hand. The three Indians would have fled, but Aguilar re- 
assured them, and, calling out to the Spaniards in their own 
language, assured them that he was a Christian. Then throw- 
ing himself upon his knees, and raising his eyes, streaming 
with tears, to heaven, he gave thanks to God for having re- 
stored him to his countrymen. 

The Spaniai'ds gazed at him with astonishment: fronr his 
language he was evidently a Castihan, but to all appearance 
he was an Indian. He was perfectly naked; wore his hair 
braided round his head in the manner of the country, and his 
complexion Avas burnt by tlie sun to a tawny colour. He had 
a bow in his hand, a quiver at his shoulder, and a net-work 
pouch at lais side in which he carried his provisions. 

The Spaniards proved to be a reconnoitei'ing party, sent out 
by Cortez to watch the approach of the canoe, which had been 
descried coming from Yucatan. Cortez had given up all hopes 
of being jomed by the captives, the caravel having waited the 
allotted time at Cotoche, and returned "without news ot them. 
He had, in fact, made sail to prosecute his voyage, but fortu- 
nately one of his ships had spining a leak, which had obliged 
htm to return to the island. 

When Jeronimo de Aguilar and his companions arrived in 
presence of Cortez, who was surrounded by his oflELccrs, they 
made a profound reverence, squatted on the ground, laid their 



]S8 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

bows and arrows beside thera, and toiicliing their right hands, 
wot with spittle, on the ground, rubbed them about the region 
of the heart, such being their sign of the most devoted sub- 
mission. 

Cortez greeted Aguilar with a hearty welcome, and raising 
him from the earth, took from his own person a large yellow 
mantle lined with crunson, and threw it over his shoiddere. 
' The latter, however, had for so long a time gone entirely 
naked, that even this scanty covering was at firet almost in- 
supportable, and he had become so accustomed to the diet of 
the natives, that he found it difficult to reconcile his stomach 
to the meat and drink set before him. 

When he had sufficiently recovered from the agitation of his 
arrival among Christians, Cortez drew from him the particu- 
lars of his story, and found that he was related to one of his 
own friends, the licentiate Marcos de Aguilar. He treated 
him, therefore, with additional kindness and respect, and re- 
tained him about his person to aid him as an interpreter in his 
great Mexican expedition. 

The happiness of Jeronimo de Aguilar at once more being 
restored to his countrymen, was doomed to suffer some aUoy 
from the disasters that had happened in his family. Peter 
Martyr records a touching anecdote of the effect that had been 
produced upon his mother by the tidings of his misfortune. A 
vague report had reached her in Spain that her son had fallen 
into the hands of cannibals. All the horrible tales that circu- 
lated in Spain concerning the treatment of these savages to 
their prisoners, rushed to her imagination, and she went dis- 
tracted. Whenever she beheld roasted meat, or flesh upon the 
spit, she would fill the house with her outcries. "Oh, wretched 
mother! oh, most miserable of women!" would she exclaim, 
" behold the limbs of my murdered son." * 

It is to be hoped that the tidings of his deliverance had a 
favourable effect upon her intellect, and that she lived to re- 
joice at his after-fortunes. He served Hernando Cortez with 
great courage and ability throughout his Mexican conquests, 
acting sometimes as a soldier, sometimes as interpreter and 
amoassador to the Indians, and, in reward of his fidelity and 
services, was appointed regidor, or civil governor of the city 
of Mexico. 

* p. Martyr, decad. 4, c. 6. 



MICER CODIiO, THE ASTROLOGER 189 



MICER CODRO, THE ASTROLOGER. 



The fate of the Italian astrologer, Micer Codro, who pre- 
dicted the end of Vasco Nufiez, is related by the historian 
Oviedo, with some particulars that border upon the marvel- 
ous. It appears that after the death of his patron, he con- 
tinued for several years i-ambJing about the New World in the 
train of the Spanish discoverers ; but intent upon studying the 
secrets of its natural history, rather than searching after its 
treasiu-es. 

In the course of his wanderings he was once coasting the 
shores of the Southern ocean in a ship commanded by one 
Geronimo de Valen^ruela, from whom he received such cruel 
treatment as to cause his death, though what the nature of the 
treatment was, we are not precisely informed. 

Finding his end approaching, the unfortunate astrologer ad- 
dressed Valenzuela in the most solemn manner: "Captain," 
said he, "you have caused my death by yom- cruelty; I now 
summon you to appear with me, within a year, before the 
judgment seat of God !" 

The captain made a Ught and scoffing answer, and treated 
his summons with contempt. 

They were then off the coast of Veragua, near the verdant 
islands of Zebaco, which lie at the entrance of the Gulf of 
Paria. The poor astrologer gazed wistfully ^\dth his dying 
eyes upon the gi-eon and shady groves, and entreated the pilot 
or mate of the caravel to land him on one of the islands, tha,t 
he might die in peace. ' ' Micer Codro, " replied the pilot, ' ' tliose 
are not islands, but points of land ; there are no islands here- 
about." 

"There are, indeed," replied the astrologer, "two good and 
pleasant islands, well watered, and near to the coast, and 
within them is a great bay with a harbor. Land me, I pray 
you, upon one of these islands, that I may have comfoi-t in my 
dying hour." 



190 SPANISH VOYAGKS OF DISCOVERY. 

The pilot, whose rough nature had been touched with pity 
for the condition of the unfortunate astrologer, hstened to his 
prayer, and conveyed him to the shore, where he found the 
opinion he had given of the character of the coast to be cor- 
rect. He laid hini on the herbage in the shade, where the poor 
wanderer soon expired. The pilot then dug a grave at the foot 
of a tree, where he buried hun with all possible decency, and 
carved a cross on the bark to mark the grave. 

Some time afterwards, Oviedo, the historian, was on the 
island with this very pilot, who showed him the cross on the 
tree, and gave his honest testimony to the good character and 
worthy conduct of Micer Codro. Oviedo, as he regarded the 
nameless grave, passed the eulogium of a scholar upon the 
poor astrologer : " He died, " says he, "like Pliny, in the dis- 
charge of his duties, travelling about the world to explore the 
seci'ets of nature." According to his account, the prediction 
of Micer Codro held good with respect to Valenzuela, as it had 
in the case of Vasco Nunez. The captain died Avithin the term 
in which he had summoned him to appear before the tribimal 
s>f God.* 

* Vide Oviedo, Hist. Gen. 1. zzxiz. c. 2 



JUAN PONCE DE LEON. 191 



JUAN PONCE DE LEON 

CONQUEROR OF PORTO RICO AND DISCOVERER OF FLORIDA. 



CHAPTER I. 



RECONNOITERING EXPEDITION OF JUAN PONCE DE LEON TO THE 
ISLAND OF BORIQUEN.— (1508.) 

Many years had elapsed since the discovery and coloniza- 
tion of Hayti, yet its neighbouring island of Boriquen, or, as 
the Spaniards called it, St. Juan, (since named Porto Rico,) re- 
mained imexplored. It was beautiful to the eye as beheld 
from the sea, having lofty mountains clothed with forest trees 
of prodigious size and magnificent foliage. There were broad 
fertile valleys also, always fresh and green ; for the fi-eqjaent 
showers and abundant streams in these latitudes, and the ab- 
sence of all wintry frost, produce a perpetual verdure. Various 
ships had occasionally touched at the island, but their crev. s 
had never penetrated into the interior. It was evident, how 
ever, from the number of hamlets and scattered houses, and 
the smoke rising in all dii'ections from among the trees, that it 
was well peopled. The inhabitants still continued to enjoy 
their life of indolence and freedom, unmolested by the ills that 
overwhelmed the neighbouring isJand of Hayti. The time had 
arrived, however, when they were to share the common lot of 
their fellow savages, and to sink beneath the yoke of the wliite 
man. 

At the time when Nicholas de Ovando, Governor of Hispani- 
ola, undertook to lay waste the gi-eat province of Higuey. 
which lay at the eastern end of Hayti, he sent, as connnandei 
of part of the troops, a veteran soldier named Juan Ponce de 
Leon. He was a native of Leon, in Spain, and in his boyhood 
had been page to Pedro Nunez de Guzman, Seiior of Toral.* 

*Iiicas, Garcilaso de la Vega, Hist. Florida, t. i". o. 37. 



192 s^A^us^ voyages of discover f. 

From an early age he liad been schooled to war, and had served 
in the various campaigns against the Moors of Granada. He 
accompanied Columbus in liis second voyage in 1493, and was 
afterwards, it is said, one of the partisans of Francisco Eoldan, 
in his rebellion against the admiral. Having distinguished him- 
self in various battles with the Indians, and acquired a name 
for sagacity as well as valour, he received a command subor- 
dinate to Juan de Esquibel, in the campaign against Higuey, 
and seconded his chief so valiantly in that sanguinary expedi- 
tion, that after the subjugation of the province he was ap- 
pointed to the command of it, as lieutenant of the Governor of 
Hispaniola. 

Juan Ponce de Leon had all the impatience of quiet life and 
the passion for exploit of a veteran campaigner. He had not 
been long in the tranquil command of his province of Higuey, 
before he began to cast a wistful eye towards the green moun- 
tains of Boriquen. They were directly opposite, and but 
twelve or fourteen leagues distant, so as to be distinctly seen 
in the transparent atmosphere of the tropics. The Indians of 
the two islands frequently visited each other, and in this way 
Juan Ponce received the usual intelligence that the mountains 
he had eyed so wistfully abounded with gold. He readily ob- 
tained pennission from Governor Ovando to make an expedi- 
tion to this island, and embarked in the year 1508 in a caravel, 
with a few Spaniards and several Indian intei'preters and 
guides. 

After an easy voyage he landed on the woody shores of the 
island, near to the residence of the principal cacique, Aguey- 
bana. He found the chieftain seated in patriarchal style under 
the shade of his native groves and surrounded by his family, 
consisting of his mother, step-father, brother, and sister, who 
vied with each other in paying homage to the strangers. Juan 
Ponce, in fact, was received into the bosom of the family, and 
the cacique exchanged names with him, which is the Indian 
pledge of perpetual amity. Juan Ponce also gave Christian 
names to the mother and step-father of the cacique, and would 
fain have baptized them, but they declined the ceremony, 
though they always took a pride in the names thus given 
them. 

In his zeal to gratify his guests the cacique took them to vari- 
ous parts of the island. They found the interior to correspond 
with the external appearance. It was wild and mountainous, 
but magnificently wooded, with deep rich valleys fertilized by 



JUAN rONCE DE LEON. 193 

limpid streams. Juan Ponce requested the cacique to reveal 
to him the riches of the island. The simple Indian showed him 
his most productive fields of Yuca, the groves laden with the 
most delicious fruit, the sweetest and purest fountams, and the 
coolest runs of water. 

Ponce de Leon heeded but little these real blessings, and de- 
manded whether the island produced no gold. Upon this, the 
cacique conducted him to two rivers, the Manatuabon and the 
Zebuco, where the very pebbles seemed richly veined with gold, 
and large grains shone among the sand through the limpid 
water. Some of the largest of these were gathered by the In- 
dians and given to the Spaniards. The quantity thus procured 
confirmed the hopes of Juan Ponce ; and leaving several of his 
companions in the house of the hospitable cacique, he retiu-nod 
to Hayti to report the success of his expedition. He presented 
the specimens of gold to the Governor Ovando, who assayed 
them in a crucible. The ore was not so fine as that of Hispam- 
ola, but as it was supposed to exist in greater quantities, the 
Grovernor determined on the subjugation of the island, and con- 
fided the enterprise to Juan Ponce de Leon. 



CHAPTER II. 



JUAN PONCE ASPIRES TO THE GOVERNMENT OP PORTO RICO.- 

(1509.) 

The natives of Boriquen were more warlike than those of 
Hispaniola; being accustomed to the use of arms from the ne- 
cessity of repelling the frequent invasions of the Caribs. It 
was supposed, therefore, that the conquest of their island 
would be attended with some difiiculty, and Juan Ponce do 
Leon made another, as it were a preparatory visit, to make 
himself acquainted with the country, and with the nature and 
resources of the inhabitants. He found the companions, whom 
he had left there on his former visit, in good health and spirits, 
and full of gi-atitude towards the cacique Agueybana, who had 
treated them Avith undiminished hospitality. There appeared 
to be no need of violence to win the island from such simple- 
hearted and confiding people. Juan Ponce flattered himself 
with the hopes of being appointed to its government by Ovando, 



194 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY. 

and of bringing it peaceably into subjection. After remaining 
some time on the island, he returned to San Domingo to seek 
the desii'ed appointment, but, to his surprise, found the whole 
face of affaii's had changed during liis absence. 

His patron, the Governor Ovando, had been recalled to 
Spain, and Don Diego Columbus, son of the renowned discov- 
erer, appointed in his place to the command at San Domingo. 
To add to the perplexities of Juan Ponce, a cavalier had already 
arrived from Spain, empowered by the king to foi*m a settle- 
ment and build a fortress on the island of Porto Rico. His 
name was Christoval de Sotomayor; he was brother to the 
Count of Camina, and had been seci'etary to Philip I., siir- 
named the Handsome, king of Castile, and father of Charles V. 

Don Diego Columbus was higlily displeased -n^th the act of 
the king in granting these powers to Sotomayor, as it had been 
done without his knowledge and consent, and of course in dis- 
regard of his prerogative as viceroy, to be consulted as to all 
appointments made within his jurisdiction. He refused, there- 
fore, to put Sotomayor in possession of the island. He paid as 
little respect to the claims of Juan Ponce de Leon, whom he 
regarded with an ungracious eye as a favourite of his prede- 
cessor Ovando. To settle tlie matter effectually, he exerted 
what he considered his official and hereditary privilege, and 
chose officers to suit himself, appointing one Juan Ceron to the 
government of Porto Rico, and Miguel Diaz to serve as his 
lieutenant.* 

Juan Ponce do Leon and his rival candidate, Chi'istoval de 
Sotomayor, bore their disappointment with a good grace. 
Though the command was denied them, they still hoped to im- 
prove their fortunes in the island, and accordingly joined the 
crowd of advcntui-ers that accompanied the newly appointed 
governor. 

New changes soon took place in consequence of the jealousies 
and misunderstandings between King Ferdinand and the admi- 
ral as to points of privilege. The former still seemed disposed to 
maintain the right of making appointments without consulting 
Don Diego, and exerted it in the i)resent instance ; for, when 
Ovando, on liis return to Spain, made favourable representation 
of the merits of Juan Ponce de Leon, and set fox'th his services 



♦ If tlie reader has perused the history of Columbus, he may remember the ro- 
lavtitic adventure of Ihis Mipuel Diaz with a female cacique, wliich led to the di» 
I .• cry i>f the gold iniiies of Hayiia, aud the founding of the city of San Domingo 



JUAN PONCE DE LEON. 195 

in exploring Porto Eico, the king appointed him governor of 
that island, and signified specifically that Don Diego Columbus 
should not presume to displace him. 



CHAPTER III. 



JUAN PONCE RULES WITH A STRONG HAND— EXASPERATION OP 
THE INDIANS— THEIR EXPERIMENT TO PROVE WHETHER THE 
SPANIARDS WERE MORTAL. 

Juan Ponce de Leon assumed the command ot the island 
of Boriquen in the year 1509. Being a fiery, high-handed old 
soldier, his first step was to quarrel with Juan Ceron and 
Miguel Diaz, the ex-governor and his heutenant, and to send 
them prisoners to Spain.* 

He was far more favourable to his late competitor, Christoval 
de Sotomayor. Fmding him to be a cavaher of noble blood 
and high connexions, yet void of pretension^ and of most ac- 
commodating temper, he offered to make him his lieutenant, 
and to give nim the post of Alcalde Mayor, an offer which was 
very thankfully accepted. 

The pride of rank, however, which follows a man even into 
the wilderness, soon interfered with the quiet of Sotomayor ; 
he was ridiculed for descending so much below his birth and 
dignity, as to accept a subaltern situation to a simple gentlemaix 
in the island which he had originally aspired to govern. He 
could not withstand these sneers, but resigned his appointment, 
and remained in the island as a private individual ; establishing 
Iiimself in a village where he had a large repartimiento or allot- 
ment of Indians assigned to him by a grant from the king. 

Juan Ponce fixed his seat of government in a town called 
Caparra, which he founded on the northern side of the island, 
about a league from the sea, in a neighbourhood supposed to 
abound in gold. It was in front of the port called Rico, which 
subsequently gave its name to the island. The road to the 
town was up a mountain, through a dense forest, and so i-ugged 
and miry that it was the bane of man and boast. It cost more 
to convey provisions and merchandise up this league of moun- 
tain than it had to bring them from Spain. 

* Herrera, decad. 1, 1. vii. c. 13. 



196 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCO VERT. 

Juan Ponce, being firmly seated in his government, began to 
carve and portion out the island, to found towns, and to dis- 
tribute the natives into repartimientos, for the purpose of 
exacting their labour. 

The poor Indians soon found the difference between the 
Spaniards as gnests, and the Spaniards as masters. They were 
driven to despair by the heavy tasks imposed upon them ; for 
to their free spirits and indolent habits, restraint and labour 
were worse than death. Many of the most hardy and daring 
proposed a general insiuTcction, and a massacre of their oppres- 
sors ; the great mass, however, w^ere deterred by the behef that 
the Spaniards were supernatural beings and could not be killed, 

A shrewd and sceptical cacique named Brayoan determined 
to put their immortality to the test. Hearing that a young 
Spaniard named Salzedo was passing through his lands, he 
sent a party of his subjects to escort him, giving them secret 
instructions how they were to a.ct. On coming to a river they 
took Salzedo on their shoulders to carry him across, but when 
in the midst of the stream, they let him fall, and, throwing 
themselves upon him, pressed him under water until he was 
drowned. Then dragging his body to the shore, and still doubt- 
ing his being dead, they wept and howled over him, making a 
thousand apologies for having fallen upon him, and kept him 
80 long beneath the surface. 

The cacique Brayoan came to examine the body and pro- 
nounced it lifeless ; but the Indians, still fearing it might pos- 
sess lurking immortahty and ultimately revive, kept watch 
over it for three days, until it showed incontestable signs of 
putrefaction. 

Being now convinced that the strangers were mortal men 
like themselves, they readily entered into a general conspiracy 
to destroy them.* 



CHAPTER IV. 

CONSPIRACY OF THE CACIQUES— THE FATE OF SOTOMAYOR. 

The prime mover of the conspiracy among the natives was 
Agueybana, brother and successor to the hospitable cacique of 

* Herrors, decad. 1, 1. viii. c. 13. 



JUAN PONCE DB LEON. 197 

the same name, who had first welcomed the Spaniards to the 
island, and who had fortimately closed his eyes in peace, be- 
fore his native groves were made the scenes of violence and 
oppression. The present cacique had fallen within the repar- 
timiento of Don Christoval de Sotomayor, and, though treated 
by that cavalier with kindness, could never reconcile his 
proud spirit to the yoke of vassalage. 

Agueybana held secret councils with his confederate ca- 
ciques, in which they concerted a plan of operations. As the ^ 
Spaniards were scattered about in different places, it was 
agreed that, at a certain time, each cacique should dispatch 
those within his province In arranging the massacre of 
those within his own domains, Agueybana assigned to one of 
his inferior caciques the task of surprising the village of Soto- 
mayor, giving him 3,000 warriors for the purpose. He was to 
assail the village in the dead of the night, to set fire to the 
houses, and to slaughter all the inhabitants. He proudly, 
however, resei'ved to himself the honour of killing Don Chris- 
toval with his own hand. 

Don Chi'istoval had an unsuspected friend in the very midst 
of his enemies. Being a cavalier of gallant appearance and 
amiable and courteous manners, he had won the affections of 
an Indian princess, the sister of the cacique Agueybana. She 
had overheard enough of the war-coimcU of her brother and 
\ liis warriors to learn that Sotomayor was in danger. The life 
' of her lover was more precious in her eyes than the safety of 
her brother and her tribe; hastening, therefore, to him, she 
told him aU that she knew or feared, and warned him to be 
upon his guard. Sotomayor appears to have been of the most 
easy and incautious natvn-e, void of all evil and deceit himself, 
and slow to suspect any thing of the kind in others. He con- 
sidered the apprehension of the princess as dictated by her. 
fond anxiety, and neglected to profit by her warning. ' 

He received, however, about the same time, information 
from a different quai-ter, tending to the same point. A Span- 
iard, versed in the language and customs of the natives, had 
observed a number gathering together one evening, painted 
and decorated as if for battle. Suspecting some lurking mis- 
chief, he stripped and painted himself in their manner, and, 
favoured by the obscurity of the night, succeeded in mingling 
among them undiscovered. They were assembled round a fire 
performing one of tlieir mystic war-dances, to the chant of an 
Aroyto or legendary ballad. The strophes and responses 



198 SPAXL'^lI VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

treated of revenge and slaughter, and repeatedly mentioned 
the death of Sotomayor. 

The Ppauiard withdrew unperceived, and hastened to ap- 
prise Don Christoval of his danger. The latter still made light 
of these repeated warnings; revolving them, however, in his 
mind in the stillness of the night, he began to feel some un- 
ea^siness, and determined to repair in the morning to Juan 
Ponce de Leon, in his strong-hold at Caparra. With his fated 
heedlessness, or temerity, however, he apphed to Agueybana 
for Indians to carry his baggage, and departed shghtly anned, 
and accompanied by but three Spaniards, although he had to 
:>ass tln-ough close and lonely forests, where he would be at 
he mercy of any treacherous or lurking foe. 

The caciiiue watched the departui-e of his mtended \'ictim 
md set out shortly afterwards, dogging his steps at a distance 
'hrough the forest, accompanied by a few chosen warriors. 
Agueybana and his party had not proceeded far when they 
met a Spaniard named Juan Gonzalez, who spoke the Indian 
language. They inunediately assailed him and woimded him 
m several places. He tlixew himself at the feet of the cacique, 
imploring his Hfe in the most abject terms. Tlie chief spared 
liim for the moment, being eager to make sure of Don Christo- 
val. He overtook that incautious cavalier in the very heart of 
ihe woodland, and steahng silently upon him, burst forth sud- 
denly with his warrioi-s from the covert of the thickets, giv- 
ing the fatal war whoop. Befoie Sotomayor could put himself 
upon his guard a blow from the war club of the cacique felled 
him to the earth, when he was quickly despatched by repeated 
blows. The four Spaniards Avho accompanied him shared his 
fate, being assailed, not merely by the warriors who had come 
in pursuit of them, but by their own Indian gmdcs. 

When Agueybana had glutted his vengeance on this unfor- 
unate cavalier, he rctiu-ned in quest of Juan Gonzalez. The 
• itter, however, had recovered sufificiently fi'om his v/ounds to 
'lave the place where he had been assailed, and, dreading the 
return of the savages, had climbed into a tree and concealed 
himself among the branchec. From thence, with trembling 
anxiety he watched his pursuers as they searched all the sur- 
rounding forest for him. Fortunately they did not think of 
looking up into the trees, but, after boating the bushes for 
some time, gave up the search. Though he saw them depart, 
yet he did not venture from his concealment until the m'ght 
had (.'Io3ed; he then descended from the tree and made the 



JUAN PONCE DE LEON. 199 

best of his way to the residence of certain Spaniards, where 
his woiinds were dressed. When this was done he waited not 
to take repose, but repaii-ed by a circuitous route to Caparra, 
and informed Juan Ponce de Leon of the danger he supposed 
to be still impending over Sotomayor, for he knew not that 
the enemy had accomplished his death. Juan Ponce inunedi- 
ately sent out forty men to his relief. They came to the scene 
of massacre, where they found the body of the unfortunate 
cavaher, partly buried, but with the feet out of the earth. 

In the mean time the savages had accomphshed the destruc- 
tion of the village of Sotomayor. They approached it unper- 
ceived, through the sui-rounding forest, and entering it in the 
dead of the night, set fire to the straw-thatched houses, and at- 
tacked the Spaniards as they endeavoured to escape from the 
flames. 

Several were slain at the onset, but a brave Spaniard, nauaed 
Diego de Salazar, rallied his countrymen, inspirited them to 
beat off the enemy, and succeeded in conducting the greater 
part of them, though sorely mangled and harassed, to the 
strong-hold of the Governor at Caparra. Scarcely had these 
fugitives gained the fortress, when others came huiTying in 
from all quarters, bringing similar tales of conflagration and 
massacre. For once a general insurrection, so often planned 
in savage life, against the domination of the white men, was 
crowned with success. All the villages founded by the Span- 
iards had been surprised, about a hundred of their inhabit- 
ants destroyed, and the survivors driven to take refuge in a 
beleaguered fortress. 



CHAPTER V. 

WAR OF JUAN PONCE WITH THE CACIQUE AGUEYBANA. 

Juan Ponce de IjEON might now almost be considered a gov- 
ernor without territories, and a general withouo soldiers. H i s 
viUages were smoking ruins, and his whole force did not 
amount to a hundred men, several of whom were disabled by 
then- wounds. He had an able and implacable foe in Aguey- 
bana, who took the lead of all the other caciques, and even 
sent envoys to the Caribs of the neighbouring islands, entreat- 
ing them to forget all ancient animosities, and to make com- 



200 S^A^^l'>H VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

raon cause against these strangers — ^the deadly enemies of the 
whole Indian race. In the mean time the whole of this wUd 
island Avas in rebellion, and the forests around the fortress of 
Caparra rang with the whoops and yells of the savages, the 
blasts of their war conchs, and the stormy roaring of their 
drums. 

Juan Ponce was a staunch and wary old soldier, and not 
easily daunted. He remained grimly ensconced witlain his 
fortress, from whence he despatched messengers in all haste 
to Hispaniola, imploi'ing immediate assistance. In the mean 
time he tasked his wits to divert the enemy and to keep them 
at bay. He divided his little force into three bodies of about 
thirty men each, under the command of Diego Salazar, Miguel 
de Toro, and Luis de Anasco, and sent them out alternately to 
make sudden surprises and assaults, to form ambuscades, and 
to practice the other stratagems of partisan warfare, which he 
had learnt in early hfe in his campaigns against the Moors of 
Granada. 

One of his most efficient warriore was a dog named Berezillo, 
renowned for courage, strength and sagacity. It is said that 
he could distinguish those of the Indians who were allies, from 
those who were enemies of the Spaniards. To the former he 
was docile and friendly, to the latter fierce and implacable. 
He was the terror of the natives, who were unaccustomed to 
powerful and ferocious animals, and did more service in this 
wild warfare than could have been rendered by several 
soldiers. His prowess was so highly appreciated that his 
master received for Imn the pay-allowance, and share of booty, 
assigned to a cross-bow man, which was the highest stipend 
given.* 

At length the stout old cavalier Juan Ponce was reinforced 
in his strong-hold by troops froin Hispaniola, whereupon he * 
sallied forth boldly to take revenge ujjon those who had thus 
held him in a kind of durance. His foe Agueybana was at 
that time encamped in his own territories with more than five 
thousand warriors, but in a negligent, unwatchfnl state, for 
ho knew nothing of the reinforcements of the Spaniards, and 

*This famous dog; was killed some yeai-s afterwards l)y a poisoned arrow, as he 
was swimming in the sea in i)ursuit of a Carib Indian. He left, however, a num- 
erous progenj' and a great name beliind hiin; and his merits and exploits were 
long a favourite theme among the Spanish colonis's. He was father to the 
renowned Lconcico, the faithful dog of Vasoo Niulez, whicli resembled Iiim in 
looks and ccii'.alled hiin in prowess. 



./^/.■1,V PONCE BE LEON. gOl 

supposed Juan Ponce shut up with his handful of men in 
Caparra. The old soldier, therefore, took him completely 
by surprise, and routed him with great slaughter. lucleed, it 
is said the Indians "were struck with a kind of panic when 
they saw the Spaniards as numerous as ever, notwithstand- 
ing the number they had massacred. Their belief in their 
immortality revived ; they fancied that those whom they had 
slain had returned to life, and they despaired of victory over 
beings who could thus arise with renovated vigour from the 
grave. 

Various petty actions and skirmishes afterwards took place, 
in which the Indians were defeated. Agueybana, however, 
disdained this petty warfare, and stirred up liis countrymen to 
assemble their forces, and by one grand assault to decide the 
fate of themselves and their islemd. Juan Ponce received 
secret tidings of their intent, and of the place where they were 
assembhng. He had at that time barely eighty men at his 
disposal, but then they were cased in steel and proof against 
the weapons of the savages. Without stopping to reflect, the 
high-mettled old cavalier put himself at theii' head and led 
them through the forest in quest of the foe. 

It was nearly sunset when he came in sight of the Indian 
camp, and the multitude of warriors assembled there made 
him pause, and almost repent of his temerit^^ He was as 
shrewd, however, as he was hardy and resolute. Ordeiing 
some of his men in the advance to sku-mish with the enemy, 
he hastily threw up a slight fortification with the assistance of 
the rest. When it was finished he withdrew his forces into it 
and ordered them to keep merely on the defensive. The 
Indians made repeated attacks, but were as often repulsed 
with loss. Some of the Spaniards, impatient of this covert 
warfare, would sally forth in open field ^dth pike and cross- 
bow, but were called back within the fortification by their 
wary commander. 

The cacique Agueybana was enraged at finding his host of 
warriors tlius baffled and kept at bay by a mere handful of 
Spaniards. He beheld the night closing m, and feared that in 
the darkness the enemy would escape. Summoning his 
choicest warriors round him, therefore, he led the Avay in a 
general assault, when, as he approached the fortress, ho re- 
ceived a mortal wound from an arquebus and fcU dead upon 
the spot 

The Spaniards were not aware at first of the importance of 



202 .SPAmSU VOYAGES OF DISCO VERY. 

the chief whom they had slain. They soon surmised it, how- 
ever, from the confusion that ensued among the enemy, who 
bore off the body with great lamentations, and made no 
further attack. 

The wary Juan Ponce took advantage of the evident distress 
of the foe, to draw off his small forces in the night, happy to 
got out of the terrible jeopardy into which a rash confidence 
had betrayed him. Some of his fiery-spirited officers would 
i ha ve kept the field in spite of the overwhelming force of the 
enemy. *'No, no," said the shrewd veteran; "it is better to 
protract the war than to risk all upon a single battle." 

While Juan Ponce de Leon was fighting hard to maintain 
his sway over the island, his transient dignity was overturned 
by another power, against wliich the prowess of the old 
soldier was of no avail. King Ferdinand had repented of the 
step he had ill-advLsedly taken, in superceding the governor 
and Ueutenant governor, appointed by Don Diego Columbus, 
He became convinced, though rather tardily, that it was an 
infringement of the rights of the admiral, and that poHcy, as 
well as justice, required hun to retract it. When Juan Ceron 
and ]\Iiguel Diaz, therefore, came prisoners to Spain, he 
received them graciously, conferred many favors on them to 
atone for theu" rough ejectment from office, and finally, after 
some time, sent them back, empowered to resume the com- 
mand of the island. They were ordered, however, on no 
accoimt to manifest rancour or ill-will against Juan Ponce de 
Leon, or to interfere with any property he might hold, either 
in houses, lands or Indians ; but on the contrary, to crJtivate 
the most friendly understanding with him. Tlie king also 
wrote to the hardy veteran explaining to him, that tliis resti- 
tution of Ceron and Diaz had been determined upon in co'dncil, 
as a mere act of justice due to them, but was not intended as 
a censure upon his conduct, and that means should be sought 
to indemnify him for tlie loss of his command. 

By the time the governor and his lieutenant reached the 
island, Juan Ponce had completed its subjugation. The death 
of the island champion, the brave Agueybana, had in fact been 
a death blow to the natives, and shows how much in savage 
warfare, depends upon a single chieftain. Tliey never made 
head of war af tei-wards ; but, dispersing among their forests 
and mountains, fell gradually under the power of the Span- 
iards. Their subsequent fate was like that of their neighbours 
of Hayti, They were employed in the labour of the mines, 



JUAN PONCE DE LEON. 203 

and in other rude toils so repugnant to their nature that they 
sank beneath them, and, in a httle while, almost all the 
aboriginals disappeared from the island. 



CHAPTER VI. 



JUAN PONCE DE LEON HEARS OF A WONDERFUL COUNTRY AND 
MIRACULOUS FOUNTAIN. 

Juan Ponce de Leon resigned the command of Porto Rico 
with tolerable grace. The loss of one wild island and wild 
government was of little moment, when there was a new 
world to be shared out, where a bold soldier hke himself, with 
sword and buckler, might readily carve out new fortunes for 
himself. Beside, he had now amassed wealth to assist him in 
his plans, and, like many of the early discoverers, his brain 
was teeming with the most romantic enterprises. He had 
conceived the idea that there was yet a third world to be dis- 
covered, and he hoped to be the first to reach its shores, and 
thus to secure a renown equal to that of Columbus. 

While cogitating these things, and consideilng which way 
he should strike forth in the unexplored regions around him, 
he met with some old Indians who gave liim tidings of a 
country which promised, not merely to satisfy the cravings of 
his ambition, but to reahze the fondest dreams of the poets. 
They assured him that, far to the north, ,there existed a land 
abounding in gold and in all manner of delights ; but, above 
all, possessing a river of such wonderful virtue that wlioever 
bathed in it would be restored to youth ! They added, that in 
times past, before the arrival of the Spaniards, a large party 
of the natives of Cuba had departed northward in search of 
this happy land and this river of liEe, and, having never 
returned, it was concluded that they were flourishing in 
renovated youth, detained by the pleasures of that enchanting 
country. 

Here was the dream of the alchymist realized ! one had but 
to find this gifted land and revel in the enjoyment of bound- 
less riches and perennial youth! nay, some of the ancient 
Indians declared that it was not necessary to go so far in quest 
of these rejuvenating waters, for that, in a certain island of 



204 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY. 

the Bahama group, called Bimini, which lay far out in the 
ocean, there was a fountain possessing the same marvellous 
and iiiestiuiable qualities. 

Juan Ponce de Leon Ustened to these tales with fond credu- 
lity. He was advancing in life, and the ordinary term of exis- 
tence seemed insufficient for his mighty plans. Could he but 
plunge into this marvellous foimtain or gifted river, and come 
out with his battered, war-worn body restored to the strength 
and freshness and suppleness of youth, and his head still retain- 
ing the wisdom and knowledge of age, what enterprises might 
he not accomphsh in the additional course of vigorous yeai-s 
insured to him ! 

It may seem incredible, at the present day, that a man of 
years and experience could yield any faith to a story which 
resembles the wild fiction of an Arabian tale ; but the wonders 
and novelties breaking upon the world in that age of discovery 
almost reahzed the illusions of fable, and the imaginations of 
the Spanish voyagers had become so heated that they were 
capable of any stretch of creduhty. 

So fully persuaded was the worthy old cavalier of the exist- 
ence of the region described to him, that he fitted out three 
ships at his own expense to prosecute the discovery, nor had 
he any difficulty in finding adventurers in abundance ready to 
cruise with him in quest of this fairy -land.* 

* It was not the credulous minds of voyagers and adventurers alone that were 
heated by these Indian traditions and romantic fables. Men of learning and 
eminence were likewise beguiled by them: witness the following extract from the 
second decade of Teter IVTartyr, addressed to Leo X., then Bishop of Rome: 

" Among the islands on the north side of ilispaniola there is one about 325 leagues 
distant, as they say which have searched the same, in the which is a continual 
spring of nuining water, of such marvellous virtue that the water thereof being 
drunk, perhaps with some diet, maketh olde men young again. And here I must 
make protestation to your holine.ss not to think this to be said lightly or rashly, fur 
they have so spread this rumour for a truth tlirotighout all the court, that not only 
all the people, hut also many of them whom wisdom or fortune hath divided from 
the common sort, think it to be true; but, if you will ask my opinion herein, I will 
answer that I will not attribute so great power to nature, but that God hath no 
les.se reserved this prerfigative to himself than to search the hearts of men." &c. — 
P. Martyr, D. i. c. 10, Lok'a translation. 



JUAN PONCE DE LEON. 205 



CHAPTER Vn. 

CRUISE OF JUAN PONCE DE LEON IN SEARCH OF THE FOUNTAIN 
OF YOUTH.— 1513. 

It was on the third of March, 1512, that Juan Ponce sailed 
with his three ships from tlie Port of St. Geiinain in the 
island of Porto Rico. He kept for some distance along the 
coast of Hispaniola, and then, stretching away to the north- 
ward, made for the Bahama islands, and soon feU in with the 
first of the group. He was favoured Avith i^ropitious weather 
and tranquil seas, and glided smoothly with wind and current 
along that verdant archipelago, visiting one island after 
another, until, on the foiu-tecnth of the month, he arrived at 
Guanahani, or St. Salvador's, where Christopher Columbus 
had first put his foot on the shores of the new world. His 
inquiries lor the island of Bimini were all in vain, and as to 
the foimtain of youth, he may have drank of every fountain 
and river, and lake of the archipelago, even to the salt pools 
of Turk's island, without being a whit the younger. 

Still he was not discouraged ; but, having repaired his ships, 
he again put to sea and shaped his course to the north-west. 
On Sunday, the 27th of March, he came in sight of what he 
supposed to be an island, but was prevented from landing by 
adverse weather. He continued hovering about it for several 
days, buffeted by the elements, until, in the night of the 
second of April, he succeeded in coming to anchor under the 
land in thirty degrees eight minutes of latitude. The whole 
country was in the fresh bloom of spring ; the trees were gay 
with blossoms, and the fields covered with flowers; from 
Avhich circiunstance, as well as from having discovered it on 
Palm Sunday, (Pascua Florida,) he gave it the name of 
Florida, which it retains to the present day. The Indian name 
of the country was Cautio. * 

Juan Ponce landed , and took possession of the country in 
the name of the Castilian Sovereigns. He afterwards con- 
tinued for several weeks ranging the coasts of this flowery 
land, and struggling against the gulf-stream and the various 
cuiTents which sweep it. He doubled Cape Cailaveral, and 
reconnoitered the southern and eastern shores without suspect- 

+ Herrera, Hist. lud. d. 1. 1. ix. c. 10. 



206 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY. 

ing that this was a part of Terra Firma. In all his attempts to 
explore the country, he met with resolute and implacable 
hostihty on the part of the natives, who appeared to be a fierce 
and warhlce race. He was disappointed also in his hopes of 
finding gold, nor did any of the rivers or fountains which he 
examined possess the rejuvenating virtue. Convinced, there- 
fore, that tliis was not the promised land of Indian tradition, 
he turned his prow homewaid on the 14th of Jime, with the 
intention in the way of making one more attempt to find the 
island of Bimini. 

In the outset of his return he discovered a group of islets 
abounding with sea-fowl and marine animals. On one of them 
his sailors, in the coui-se of a single night, caught one hundred 
and seventy turtles, and might have taken many more, had 
they been so mchned. They hkevvise took fourteen sea wolves, 
and kiUed a vast quantity of pelicans and other birds. To this 
group Juan Ponce gave the name of the Tortugas, or turtles, 
which they stiU retain. 

Proceeding in his cruise, he touched at another group of 
islets near the Lucayos, to which he gave the name of La Vieja, 
or the Old Woman group, because he found no inhabitant 
there but one old Indian woman.* This ancient sybil he took 
on board his ship to give him information about the labyiinth 
of islands into wliich he was entering, and perhaps he could not 
have had a more suitable guide in the eccentric quest he was 
making. Notwithstanding her pilotage, however, he was ex- 
ceedingly baffled and perplexed in his return voyage among 
the Bahama islands, for he was forcing his way as it were 
against the course of nature, and encountering the cm-rents 
which sweep westward along these islands, and the trade-wind 
which accompanies them. ¥ov a long tune he struggled with 
all kinds of difficulties and dangei-s ; and was obliged to re- 
main upwards of a month in one of the islands to repair the 
damages which his ship had suffered in a storm. 

Disheartened at length by the perils and tiials with which 
natui-e seemed to have beset the approach to Bimini, as to 
some fairy island in lomance, he gave up the quest in person, 
and sent in his place a trusty captain, Juan Perez de Ortubia, 
who departed in one of the other ships, guided by the ex- 
perienced old woman of the isles, and by anotlier Indian. As 
to Juan Ponce, he made the best of his way back to Porto 

* Herrera, d. 1,1. ix. 



JUAN PONCE BE LEON. 207 

jRico, whore he arrived infinitely poorer in purse and wrinkled 
in brow, by this cruise after inexhaustible riches and perpetual 
youth. 

He had not been long in port when his trusty envoy, Juan 
Perez, likewise arrived. Guided by the sage old woman, he 
had succeeded in finding the long-sought-for Biniini. He de- 
scribed it as being large, verdant, and covered with beautiful 
gi'oves. There were crystal springs and hmpid streams in 
abundance, which kept the island in perpetual verdure, but 
none that could restore to an old man the vernal greenness of 
his youth. 

Thus ended the romantic expedition of Juan Ponce de Leon. 
Like many other pursuits of a chimera, it terminated in the 
acquisition of a substantial good. Though he had failed in 
finding the fairy fountaia of youth, he had discovered in place 
of it the important country of Florida.* 



CHAPTER VIII. 



EXPEDITION OF JUAN PONCE AGAINST THE CARIES — HIS DEATH, — 

(1514.) 

JuAN PoNCE DE Leon DOW repaired to Spain to make a re- 
port of his voyage to King Ferdinand. The hardy old cava- 
lier experienced much raUlery from tlie witlings of the court 
on account of his visionary voyage, though many wise men 
had been as credulous as himself at the outset. The king, 
however, received bun v/ith great favour, and conferred on 
him the title of Adelantado of Bimini and Florida, which last 
was as yet considered an island. Permission was also granted 
him to recruit men either in Spain or in the colonies for a set- 



* Tlie belief of the existence, in Florirla. of a river like that sought by Jnan Ponce, 
was lonfT prevalent among the Indians of Cuba, and the caciques were anxious to 
discover it. That a party of the natives of Cuba once went in search of it. and re- 
mained there, appears to be a fact, as their descendants were nfterwfirds to be 
traced among the people of Florida. I>as Casas says, that even in his days, many- 
persisted in seeking this mystery, and some thought that the river was no other 
than that called the Jordan, at the point of St. Helena; without considi-ring that 
the name was given to it by the Spaniards iu the year 1530, when they discovered 
the land of Chicora. 



208 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

tlement in Florida ; but he deferred entering on his command 
for the present, beinjg probably discouraged and impoverished 
by the losses in liis last expedition, or finding a difficulty in 
enlisting adventurers. At length another enterprise present- 
ed itself. The caribs had by this time become a terror to the 
Spanish uihabitants of many of the islands, making descents 
upon the coasts and carrying off captives, who it was supposed 
were doomed to be devoured by these cannibals. So fre- 
quent were their invasions of the island of Porto Rico, that 
it was feared they would ultimately oblige the Spaniards to 
abandon it. 

At length King Ferdinand, in 1514, ordered that three ships, 
well armed and manned, should be fitted out in Seville, des- 
tined to scour the islands of the Caribs, and to free the seas 
from those cannibal marauders. The command of the Armada 
was given to Juan Ponce de Leon, from his knowledge in In- 
dian warfare, and his varied and rough experience which had 
mingled in him the soldier with the sailor. He was instructed 
in the first place to assail the Caribs of those islands most con- 
tiguous and dangerous to Porto Rico, and then to make war 
on those of the coast of Terra Firma, in the neighbourhood of 
Carthagcna. He was afterwards to take the captaincy of 
Porto Rico, and to attend to the repartimientos or distribu- 
tions of the Indians in conjunction with a person to be ap- 
pointed by Diego Columbus. 

The enterprise suited the soldier-like spirit of Juan Ponce de 
Leon, and the gallant old cavalier set sail full of confidence in 
January, 1515, and steered direct for the Caribbees, with a de- 
teiTaination to give a wholesome castigation to the whole sav- 
age archipelago. Arriving at the island of Guadaloupe, he 
cast anchor, and sent men on sliore for wood and water, and 
women to wash the clothing of the crews, with a party of sol- 
diers to mount guard. 

Juan Ponce had not been as wary as usual, or he had to deal 
with savages unusually r.droit in warfare. While the peoplo 
were scattered carelessly on shore, the Caribs iixshed forth 
from an ambuscade, killed tlie greater pail of the men, and 
carried off the women to the mountains. 

This blow at the very outset of his vaunted expedition sank 
deep into the heart of Juan Ponce, and put an end to all his 
military excitement. Humbled and mortified, he set sail for 
the island of Porto Rico, where he relinquished all further 
prosecution of the enterprise, under pretext of ill health, and 



JUAN PONCE DE LEON. 209 

gave the command of the squadron to a captain named Zuniga; 
but it is surmised that his malady was not so much of the flesh 
as of the spiiit. He remained in Porto Rico as governor ; but, 
haviag grown testy and irritable through vexations and disap- 
pointments, he gave great offence, and caused much contention 
on the island by positive and strong-handed measures, in le- 
spect to the distribution of the Indians. 

He continued for several years in that island, in a state of 
growling repose, until the brOliant exploits of Hernando Cortez, 
which threatened to eclipse the achievements of all the veteran 
discoverers, roused his dormant spirit. 

Jealous of being cast in the shade in his old daj s, he deter- 
mined to sally forth on one more expedition. He had heard 
that Florida, which he had discovered, and which he had 
hitherto considered a mere island, was part of Terra Firma, 
possessing vast and unknown regions in its bosom. If so, a 
grand field of enterprise lay before liim, wherein he might 
make discoveries and conquests to rival, if not surpass, the 
fai'-famcd conquest of Mexico. 

Accordingly, in the year 1521 he fitted out tAvo ships at the 
island of Porto Eico, and embarked almost the whole of his 
property in the undertaking. Hit? voyage was toilsome and 
tempestuous, but at length he arrived at the wished-for land. 
He made a descent upon the coast with a great part of his 
men, but the Indians salhed forth with unusual valour to de- 
fend their shores. A bloody battle ensued, several of the 
Spaniards were slaiiv, and Juan Ponce was woimded by an 
arrow, in the thigh. He was borne on board his ship, and 
finding himself disabled for further action, set saU for Cuba, 
where he arrived ill in body and dejected in heart. 

He was of an age when there is no longer prompt and health- 
ful reaction either mental or corporeal. The irritations ot 
humiliated pride and disappointed hope, exasperated the fever 
of his svound, and he died soon after his arrival at the island. 
"Thus fate," says one of the quaint old Spanish writers, " de- 
lights to reverse the schemes of man. The discovery that 
Juan Ponce flattered himself was to lead to a means of per- 
petuating his hfe, had the ultimate effect of hastening his 
death." 

It may be said, however, that he has at least attained the 
shadow of his desire, since, though disappointed in extending 
the natural term of his existence, his discovery has ensured a 
lasting duration to his name. 



210 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY. 

Tlie following epitaph was inscribed upon his tomb, which 
does justice to the warrior quaUties of the stout old cavaUer: 

Mole sub hae fortis requiescat ossa Leonis, 
Qui vicit factis nomiiia magna suis. 

It has thus been paraphrased in Spanish by the Licentiate 
Juan de Castellanos. 

Aqueste lugar estrecho 
Es sepulchro del varon, 
Que eu el iionibre fue Leon, 
Y mucho mas eu el hecho. 

" In this sepulchre rest the bones of a man, who was a lion 
by name, and stiU more by nature." 



APr:-:?wiX. 211 



APPENDIX. 



A VISIT TO PALOS. 

[The following narrative was actually commenced, by t'ne author of this work, as 
a letter to a friend, but unexpectedly swelled to its present size. He has been in- 
duced to insert it here from the idea that many will feel the same curiosity to 
know something of the present state of Palos and its inhabitants that led him to 
make the journey.] 

Seville, 1828. 

Since I last wrote to you I hare made, what I may term, an 
American Pilgrimage, to visit the httle port of Palos in 
Andalusia, where Columbus fitted out his ships, and whence 
he sailed for the discovery of the New World. Need I tell you 
how deeply interesting and gratifying it has been to me? I 
had long meditated this excursion as a kind of pious, and, if I 
may say, fihal duty of an American, and ixiy intention was 
quickened when I leamt that many of the edifices mentioned 
in the history of Columbus still remained in nearly the same 
state in which they existed at the time of his sojourn at Palos, 
and that the descendants of the intrepid Pinzons, who aided 
him with ships and money, and sailed with him in the great 
voyage of discovery, still flourished in the neighbourhood. 

The very evening before my departure from Seville on the 
excursion, I heard that there was a young gentleman of the 
Pinion family studying law in the city. I got introduced to 
him, and found him of most prepossessing appearance and 
manners. He gave me a letter of introduction to his father, 
Don Juan Fernandez Pinzon, resident of Moguer, and the pre- 
sent head of the family. 

As it was in the middle of August, and the weather in- 
tensely hot, I hired a calesa for the journey. This is a two- 
wheeled caiTiage, resembhng a cabriolet; but of the most 
primitive and rude construction; the harness is profusely 
ornamented with brass, and the horse's head decorated with 



212 SrANISJr VOYAGES OF DlSCOVIillY. 

tixfts and tassels and dangling bobs of scarlet and yellow 
woi'sted. I had, for calasero, a tall, long-legged Andalusian, 
in short jacket, little ronnd-crowned hat, breeches decorated 
with buttons from the hip to the knees, and a pair of iiisset 
leather bottinas or spatter-dashes. He ^vas an active fellow, 
though uncommonly taciturn for an Andalusian, and strode 
along beside his horse, rousing him occasionally to greater 
speed by a loud malediction or a hearty thwack of liis cudgel. 

In this style I set off late in the day to avoid the noon-tide 
heat, and after ascending the lofty range of hills that borders 
the great vaUey of the Guadalquivir, and having a rough ride 
among their heights, I descended about twihght into one of 
those vast, silent, melancholy plains, frequent in Spain, where 
I beheld no other signs of life than a roaming flock of bustards, 
and a distant herd of cattle, guarded by a sohtary herdsman, 
who, with a long pike planted in the earth, stood motionless in 
the midst of the dreary landscape, resembling an Arab of the 
deseiii. The night had somewhat advanced when we stopped 
to repose for a few hours at a solitary venta or inn, if it might 
so be called, being nothing more than a vast low-roofed stable, 
divided into several compartments for the reception of the 
troops of mules and arrieros (or carriers) who carry on the 
internal trade of Spain. Acconnnodation for the traveller 
there was none — not even for a traveller so easily accom- 
modated as myself. The landlord had no food to give me, and 
as to a bed, he had none but a horse cloth, on which his only 
child, a boy of eight years old, lay naked on the earthen floor. 
Indeed the heat of the weather and the kunes from the stables 
made the interior of the hovel insupportable, §o I was fain to 
bivouac on my cloak on the pavement at the door of the venta, 
where on waking after two or three hours of sound sleep, I 
foimd a contrabandista (or smugglei-) snoring beside me, with 
his blunderbuss on his arm. 

I resumed my journey before break of day, and had made 
several leagues by ten o'clock, when we stopped to breakfast 
and to pass the sultry hours of midday in a large village, from 
whence we departed about foxir o'clock, and, after passing 
through the same kind of solitary country, arrived just after 
sunset at Moguer. This little city (for a* present it is a city) is 
situated about a league from Palos, of which place it has gra- 
dually absorbed all the respectable inhabitants, and, among 
the number, the whole family of the Pinzons. 

So remote is thi;^ little place from the stir and bustle of 



APi'liNDIX. 213 

travel, and so destitute of the show and vain-glory of this 
world, that my calesa, as it rattled and jingled along the nar- 
row and ill-paved streets, caused a great sensation; the chil- 
dren shouted and scamj)ered along by its side, admiring its 
splendid trappings of brass and worsted, and gazing with rev- 
erence at the important stranger who came in so gorgeous an 
equipage. 

I drove up to the principal posada, the landlord of which 
was at the door. He was one of the very civilest men in the 
world, and disposed to do every thing in his power to make 
me comfortable ; there was only one diflSculty, he had neither 
bed nor bedroom in his house. In fact, it was a mere venta 
for muleteers, who are accustomed to sleep on the ground with 
their mule-cloths for beds and pack-saddles for pillows. It 
was a hard case, but there was no better posada in the place. 
Few people travel for pleasure or curiosity in these out-of-the- 
way parts of Spain, and those of any note are generally re- 
ceived into private houses. I had travelled sufficiently in 
Spain to find out that a bed, after all, is not an article of indis- 
pensable necessity, and was about to bespeak some quiet 
corner where I might spread my cloak, when, fortunately, the 
landlord's wife came forth. She could not have a more oblig- 
ing disposition than her husband, but then — God bless the 
women!— they always know how to carry their good wishes 
into effect. In a little while a small room about ten feet 
square, that had formed a thoroughfare between the stables 
and a kind of shop or bar-room, was cleared of a variety of 
lumber, and I was assui-ed that a bed should be put up there 
for me. From the consultations I saw my hostess holding 
with some of her neighbour gossips, I fancied the bed was to 
be a kind of piecemeal contribution among them for the credit 
of the house. 

As soon as I could change my dress, I commenced the histori- 
cal researches, which were the object of my journey, and 
inquired for the abode of Don Juan Fernandez Pinzon. My 
obliging landlord himself volunteered to conduct me thither, 
and I set off fuU of animation at tlie thoughts of meeting with 
the Hneal representative of one of the coadjutors of Columbus. 

A short walk brought us to the house, which was most re- 
spectable in its appearance, indicating easy if not affluent cir- 
cumstances. The door, as is customary in Spanish vUlagcs 
during summer, stood wide open. We entered with the usual 
salutation, or rather summons, "Ave Maria!" A trim Anda- 



214 SPANISH VOYAGh'S OF DTSCOVERT. 

lusian handmaid answered to the call, and, on oui' inquiring 
for the master of the house, led the way across a little patio or 
court in the centre of the edifice, cooled by a fountain sur- 
rounded hy shrubs and flowers, to a back court or terrace, like- 
wise set out with flowers, where Don Juan Fernandez was 
seated with his family enjoyuig the serene evening in the open 
air. 

I was much pleased with his appearance. He was a van 
erablo old gentleman, tall and somewhat thin, with fair com- 
plexion and gray hair. He received me with great urbanity, 
and, on reading the letter from his son, appeared sti-uck with 
surprise to find I had come quite to Moguer merely to visit 
tbe scene of the embarkation of Columbus ; and still more so on 
my telling him that one of my leading objects of curiosity was 
his own family coimexion ; for it would seem that the worthy 
cavalier had troubled his head but Uttle about the entei-prises 
of his ancestors. 

I now took my seat in the domestic circle and soon felt 
myself quite at home, for there is generally a frankness in 
the hospitality of Spaniards that soon puts a stranger at his 
ease beneath their roof. The wife of Don Fernandez was 
extremely amiable and affable, possessing much of that nat- 
m-al aptness for which the Spanish women are remarkable. 
In the course of conversation with them, I learnt that Don 
Juan Fernandez, who is seventy-two years of age, is the eldest 
of five brothers, all of whom are married, have numerous off- 
spring, and lived in Jloguer and its vicinity in nearly the 
same condition and rank of life as at the time of the dis- 
covery. This agreed with what I had pz*eviously heard re- 
specting the families of the discoverers. Of Columbus no 
lineal and direct descendant exists; his was an exotic stock 
that never took deep and lasting root in the country ; but the 
race of the Pinzons continues to thrive and multiply in its 
native soil. 

While I was yet conversing a gentleman entered, who was 
introduced to me as Don Luis Fernandez Pinzon, the young- 
est of the brothers. He appeared to be between fifty and sixty 
years of age, somewhat robust, with fair complexion and gray 
hair, and a frank and manly deportment. He is the only one 
of the present generation that has followed the ancient pro- 
fession of the family ; having served %vith great applause as an 
officer of the royal navy, from which he retired on his mar- 
riage about twenty-two years since. He is the one also who 



Arri'JiYDix. 215 

takes the greatest interest and pride in the historical honours 
of his house, carefully preserving all the legends and docu- 
ments of the achievements and distractions of his family, a 
manuscript volume of which he lent me for my inspection. 

Don Juan now expressed a wish that during my residence 
in Moguer I would make his house my home. I endeavoured 
to excuse myself, allegiag that the good people at the posada 
had been at such extraordinary trouble in preparing quarters 
for me that I did not Hke to disappoint them. The worthy old 
gentleman undertook to arrange all this, and, whUe supper 
Avas preparing, we walked together to the posada. I found 
that rny obliging host and hostess had indeed exerted them- 
selves to an uncommon degi'ee. An old ricketty table had 
been spread out in a comer of the httle room as a bedstead, on 
top of which was propped up a grand cama de hixo, or state 
bed, wliich appeared to be the admiration of the house. I 
could not for the soul of me appear to undervalue what the 
poor people had prepared with such hearty good-will and con- 
sidered such a triumph of art and luxury ; so I again entreated 
Don Juan to dispense -svith my sleeping at his house, promising 
rnost faithfully to make my meaLs there whOe I should stay at 
Moguer, and, as the old gentleman understood my motives for 
ileclining his invitation and felt a good-humoured sympathy in 
them, we readily arranged the matter, I returned, therefore, 
with Don Juan to his house and supped with his family. Dur- 
ing the repast a plan was agreed iipon for my visit to Palos 
and to the convent La Eabida, in which Don Juan volimteered 
to accompany me and be my guide, and the following day was 
allotted to the expedition. We were to breakfast at a hacienda 
or country-seat which he possessed in the vicmity of Palos in 
the midst of liis vineyards, and were to dine there on our re- 
turn from the convent. Tiiese arrangements being made, we 
pai'ted for the night; I returned to the posada highly gratified 
with my ^asit, and slept soundly in the extraordinary bed, 
which, I may almost say, had been invented for my acconnno- 
dation. 

On the following morning, bright and early, Don Juan Fer- 
nandez and myself set off in the calesa for Palos. I felt ap- 
prehensive at first, that the kind-hearted old gentleman, in his 
anxic;.y to oblige, had left his bed at too early an hour, and 
v/as exposing himself to fatigues unsuitcd to his age. He 
laughed at the idea, and assured me that he was an early riser, 
and accustomed to all kinds of exercise on horse and foot. 



216 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

being a Keen sportsman, and frequently passing days together 
among the mountains on shooting expeditions, taking with 
him servants, horses, and provisions, and living in a tent. He 
appeared, in fact, to be of an active habit, and to possess a 
youthful vivacity of spirit. His cheerful disposition rendered 
our morning drive extremely agreeable; his urbanity was 
shown to every one whom we met on the road ; even the com- 
mon peasanb was saluted by liim with the appellation of cahal- 
lero, a mark of respect ever gratifying to the poor but proud 
Spaniard, when yielded by a superior. 

As the tide was out we drove along the flat grounds border- 
ing the Tinto. The river was on our right, while on om- left 
was a range of hills, jutting out into promontories, one beyond 
the other, and covered with vineyards and fig trees. The 
weather was serene, the air was soft and balmy, and the land- 
scape of that gentle kind cai ciliated to put one in a quiet 
and happy humour. We passed close by the skii-ts of Palos, 
and drove to the hacienda, which is situated at some little dis- 
tance from the village, between it and the river. The house is 
a low stone building, well wliite- washed, and of great length; 
one end being fitted up as a summer residence, with saloons, 
bed-rooms, and a domestic chapel ; and the other as a bodega or 
magazine for the reception of the ■v\dne produced on the estate. 

The house stands on a hill, amidst vineyards, which are sup- 
posed to cover a part of the site of the ancient town of Palos, 
now shiamk to a miserable village. Beyond these vineyards, 
on the crest of a distant hill, are seen the white walls of the 
convent of La Rabida rising*above a dark wood of pine trees. 

Below the hacienda flows the river Tinto, on which Cohxm- 
bus embarked. It is divided by a Ioav tongue of land, or rather 
the sand-bar of Saltes, from the river Odiel, with which it soon 
mingles its waters, and flows on to the ocean. Beside this 
sand-bar, where the channel of the river runs deep, the squad- 
ron of Columbus was anchored, and from hence he made sail 
on the morning of his departure. 

The soft breeze that was blowing scarcely ruffled the surface 
of this beautiful rivei- ; two or three picturesque barks, called 
my sticks, with long latino- sails, were gliding down it. A little 
aid of the imagination might suffice to picture them as the 
light caravels of Columbus, sallying forth on their eventful 
expedition, while the distant bells of the town of Huelva, 
which were ringing melodiously, might be supposed as cheer- 
ing the voyagers with a farewell peal. 



APPENDIX. 217 

I cannot ex]3ress to you what were my feelings on treading 
the shore which had once been animated by the bustle of 
departure, and whose sands had been printed by the last foot- 
step of Columbus. The solemn and subhme nature of the 
event that had followed, together with the fate and fortunes of 
those concerned in it, filled the mind with vague yet melan- 
choly ideas. It was like viewing the silent and empty stage of 
some great drama, when all the actors had departed. Tho 
very aspect of the landscape, so tranquilly beautiful, had an 
effect upon me, and as I paced the deserted shore by the side of 
a descendant of one of the discoverers, I felt my heart swelling 
with emotions and my eyes filling with tears. 

What surprised me was to find no semblance of a seaport ; 
there was neither wharf nor landing-place — nothing but a 
naked river bank, with the hidk of a ferry-boat, which I was 
told carried passengers to Huelva, lying high and dry on the 
sands, deserted by the tide. Palos, though it has doubtless 
dwindled away from its fonner size, can never have been 
important as to extent and population. If it possessed ware- 
houses on the beach, they have disappeared. It is at present a 
mere village of the poorest kind, and lies nearly a quarter of a 
mile from the river, in a hollow among hills. It contains a 
few hundred inhabitants, who subsist principally by labouring 
in the fields and vineyards. Its race of merchants and marin- 
ers are extinct. There are no vessels belonging to the place, 
nor any show of traffic, excepting at the season of finiit and 
wine, when a few my sticks and other light barks anchor in the 
river to collect the produce of the neighbourhood. The people 
are totally ignorant, and it is probable that the greater part of 
them scarce know even the name of America. Such is the 
place from whence salUed forth the enterj^rise for the discovery 
of the western world ! 

We were now summoned to breakfast in a little saloon of the 
hacienda. The table was covered with natural luxuries pro- 
duced upon the spot— fine purple and muscatel grapes from 
the adjacent vineyard, delicious melons from the garden, and 
generous -wines made on the estate. The repast was heightened 
by the genial manners of my hospitable host, who appeared to 
possess the most enviable cheerfulness of spirit and simplicity 
of heart. 

Alter breakfast we set oli in the calesa to visit the convent 
of La Eabida, which is about half a league distant. The road, 
for a pia-t of the way, lay through the vine^-ai-ds, and was deep 



218 SPANISH VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY. 

and sandy. The calaserohad been at his wits' end to conceive 
what motive a stranger like myself, apparently travelling for 
mere amusement, could have in coming so far to see so miser, 
able a place as Palos, which he set dawn as one of the very 
poorest places in the whole world ; but this additional toil and 
struggle through deep sand to visit the old Convent of La 
Rabida, completed liis confusion — "Hombre!" exclaimed he, 
" es ima ruina! no hay mas que dos frailes!" — " Zounds! why, 
it's a ruin! there are only two fi-iars there!" Don Juan 
laughed, and told him that I had come all the way from Seville 
precisely to see that old ruin and those two friars. The cala- 
sero made the Spaniard's last reply when he is perplexed — he 
shrugged his shoulders and crossed himself. 

After ascending a hill and passing through the skirts of a 
straggling pine wood, we arrived in front of "the convent. It 
stands in a bleak and solitary situation, on the brow of a rocky 
height or promontory, overlooking to the west a -svide range of 
sea and land, bounded by the frontier mountains of Portugal, 
about eight leagues distant. The convent is shut out from a 
view of the vineyard of Palos by the gloomy forest of pines 
which I have mentioned, which cover the promontory to the 
east, and darken the whole landscape in that direction. 

There is nothing remarkable in the architecture of the con- 
vent ; part of it is Gothic, but the edifice, having been fre- 
quently repaired, and being white-washed, according to a uni- 
versal custom in Andalusia, inherited from the Moors, it has 
not that venerable aspect which might be expected from its 
antiquity. 

We alighted at the gate whei*e Columbus, when a poor 
pedestrian, a stranger in the land, asked bread and water for 
his child ! As long as the convent stands, this must be a spot 
calculated to awaken the most thrilling interest. The gate 
remains apparently in nearly the same state as at the time of 
his visit, but there is no longer a porter at hand to administer 
to the wants of the wayfarer. The door stood wide open, and 
admitted us into a small court-yard. From thence we passed 
through a Gothic portal into the chapel, without seeing a 
human being. We then tra/crsed two interior cloistei-s, 
equally vacant and silent, and bearing a look of neglect and 
dilapidation. From an open window Ave had a peep at what 
had once been a garden, but that had also gone to ruin ; the 
walls were broken and thrown down; a few shrubs, and a 
scattered fig-tree or two, were all the traces of cultivation that 



.xPPE^DIX. 219 

remained. We passed through the long dormitories, but the 
oeMs were shut up and abandoned; we saw no Hving thing 
except a soUtary cat steahng across a distant corridor, which 
fled in a panic at the unusual sight of strangers. At length, 
after patrolling nearly the whole of the empty building to the 
echo of our own footsteps, we came to where the door of a cell, 
being partly open, gave us the sight of a monk witliin, seated 
at a table writing. He rose and received us with much civil- 
ity, and conducted us to the superior, who was reading in an' 
adjacent cell. They were both rather young men, and, 
together with a novitiate and a lay-brother, who officiated as 
cook, formed the whole community of the convent. 

Don Juan Fernandez communicated to them the object of 
my visit, and my desu'e also to mspect the archives of the 
convent to find if there was any record of the sojoiirn of 
Columbus. They informed us that the archives had been 
entirely destroyed by the French. The younger monk, how- 
ever, who had perused them, had a vague recollection of 
various particulars concerning the transactions of Columbus 
at Palos, his visit to the convent, and the saihng of his 
expedition. From ^ all that he cited, however, it appeared to 
me that all the mformation on the subject contained in the 
archives, had been extracted from Herrera and other well 
known authors. The monk was talkative and eloquent, and 
soon diverged from the subject of Columbus, to one which 
he considered of infinitely gi-eater importance; — the mirac- 
ulous image of the Vii-gin possessed by their convent, and 
known by the name of ' ' Our Lady of La Rabida. " He gave 
us a history of the wonderful way in which the image had 
been found buried in the earth, where it bad lain hidden for 
ages, since the time of the conquest of Spain by the Moors ; 
the disputes between the convent and different places in the 
neighbourhood for the possession of it; the marvellous pro- 
tection it extended to the adjacent country, especially in 
preventing all madness, either in man or dog, for this malady 
was anciently so prevalent in this place as to gain it the 
appellation of La Rabia, by which it was originally called ; a 
name which, thanks to the beneficent influence of the Virgin, 
it no longer merited or retained. Such are the legends and 
rehques with which every convent in Spain is enriched, which 
are zealously cried up by the monks, and devoutly credited by 
the populace. 

Twice a year on the festival of our Lady of La Eabida, and 



220 SPANISH VOTAOES OF DISCOVERY. 

on that of the patron saint of the order, the sohtude and 
silence of the convent are interrupted by the intrusion of a 
8^v\^rn^ing multitude, composed of the inliabitants of Moguer, 
of Huelva, and the neighbouring plains and mountains. The 
open esplanade in front of the edifice resembles a fair, the 
adjacent forest teems "svith the motley thi-ong, and the image 
of our Lady of La Rabida is home forth in triumphant 
procession. 

While the friar was thus dilating upon the merits and 
renown of the image, I amused myself -with those day di-eams, 
or conjurings of the imagination to which I am a little given. 
As the internal arrangements of convents are apt to be the 
same from age to age, I pictured to myself this chamber as the 
same inhabited by the guardian, Juan Perez de Marchena, at 
the time of the visit of Columbus. Why might not the old 
and ponderous table before me be the very one on which he 
displayed his conjectural maps, and expoimded his theory of 
a western route to India? It required but another stretch of 
the imagination to assemble the Mttle conclave around the 
table; Juan Perez the friar, Garci Fernandez the physician, 
and Martin Alonzo Pinzon, the bold navigator, all Mstening 
with rapt attention to Columbus, or to the tale of some old 
seaman of Palos, about islands seen in the western parts of 
the ocean. 

The friars, as far as their poor means and scanty knowledge 
extended, were disposed to do every tiling to promote the 
object of my visit. They showed us all parts of the convent, 
which, however, has little to boast of, excepting the historical 
associations connected with it. The library was reduced to a 
few volumes, chiefly on ecclesiastical subjects, piled promiscu- 
ously in the corner of a vaulted chamber, and covered with 
dust. The chamber itself was curious, being the most ancient 
j)nrt of the edifice, and supposed to have formed part of a 
temple in the time of the Romans. 

» We ascended to the roof of the convent to enjoy the 
extensive prospect it commands. Immediately below the 
promontory on which it is situated, runs a narrow but 
tolerably deep river, called the Domingo Rubio, which empties 
itself into the Tinto. It is the opinion of Don Luis Fernandez 
Pinzon, that the ships of Columbus were careened and fitted 
out in this river, as it affords better shelter than the Tinto, 
and its shores are not so shallow. A lonely bark of a fisher- 
man was lying in this stream, and not far off, on a rondy 



APPENDIX. 221 

point, were the ruins of an ancient ■watchtOTver. From the 
i*ooif of the convent, all the windings of the Odiel and the 
Tinto were to he seen, and their junction into the main 
sti-eam, by which Columbus sallied forth to sea. In fact, the 
convent serves as a landmark, being, from its lofty and 
sohtary situation, visible for a considerable distance to vessels 
comuig on the coast. On the opposite side I looked down 
upon the lonely road, through the wood of pine trees, by 
which tlie zealous guardian of the convent. Fray Juan Perez, 
departed at midnight on his mule, when he sought the camp 
of Ferdinand and Isabella in the Vega of Granada, to plead 
the project of Columbus before the queen. 

Having finished our inspection of the convent, we prepared 
to depart, and were accompanied to the outward portal by the 
two friars. Our calasero brought his ratthng and ricketty 
vehicle for us to mount ; at sight of which one of the monks 
exclaimed, with a smile, "Santa Maria! only to think! A 
calesa before the gate of the convent of La Rabida!" And, 
indeed, so solitary ?nd remote is this ancient edifice, and so 
simple is the mode ot living of the people in this bye corner of 
Spain, that the appearance of even a sorry calesa might well 
cause astonislmient. It is only singular that in such a bye- 
corner the scheme of Columbus should have found intelligent 
Hsteners and coadjutors, after it had been discarded, almost 
with scoffing and contempt, from learned universities and 
splendid coui'ts. 

On our way back to the hacienda, we met Don Rafael, a 
younger son of Don Juan Fernandez, a fine young man about 
twenty-one years of age, and who, liis father informed me, 
was at present studying French and mathematics. He was 
well moimted on a spirited gray horse, and dressed in the 
Andalusian style, with the little round hat and jacket. He 
sat his horse gracefully, and managed him well. I was 
pleased with the frank and easy terms on which Don Juan 
appeared to live with his children. This I was incluied to 
think his favourite son, as I understood he was the only one 
that partook of the old gentleman's fondness for the chase, 
and that accompanied him in his himting excursions. 

A dinner had been prepared for us at the hacienda, by the 
wife of the capitaz, or overseer, who, with her husband, 
seemed to be well pleased with this visit from Don Juan, and 
to be confident of receiving a pleasant answer from the good- 
hiiraoiircd old gentleman whenever thev addressed him. The 



2:22 SPAAISII VOYAGES OF DISCOVERT. 

dinner was served up about two o'clock, and was a 
agreeable meal. The fruits and wines were from the estftt^ji 
and were excellent; the rest of the provisions wei'e fiaut 
Moguer, for the adjacent Aollage of Palos is too poor to 
fiirnish anytliing. . A {gentle breeze from the sea played 
through the hall, and tempered the summer heat. Indeed I 
do not know when I have seen a more enviable spot than this 
country retreat of the Pinzons. Its situation on a breezy hill, 
at no great distance from the sea, and in a southern climate, V 
produces a happy temperature, neither hot in summer nor 
cold in winter. It commands a beautiful prospect, and is 
surroimicd by natiu-al luxuries. The country abounds witn 
game, the adjacent river affoi'ds abundant sjiort in fishing, 
both by day and night, and dehglitful excm*sions for those 
fond of sailing. During the busy seasons of rural life, and 
especially at the joyous period of vintage, the family pass 
some time here, accompanied by numerous guests, at which 
times, Don Juan assured me, there was no lack of amuse- 
ments, both by land and water. 

When we had dined, and taken the siesta, or afternoon nap, 
according to the Spanish custom in summer-time, we set out 
on our retm-n to Moguer, visiting the village of Palos in the 
way. Don Gabriel had been sent in advance to procure the 
Keys of the village church, and to apprise the curate of our 
wish to inspect the archives. The collage consists principally 
of two streets of low white-washed houses. Many of the 
inhabitants have very dark complexions, betraying a mixture 
of African blood. 

On entering the villfige, we repaired to the lowly mansion 
of the curate. I had hoped to find him some such pereonage 
as the curate in D<^)n Quixote, possessed of shrewdness and 
information in his limited si)here, and that I might gain some 
anecdotes from him concerning hi " paiish, its worthies, its 
antiquities, and its historical events. Perhaps I might have 
done so at any other time, but, uiifortunately, the curate wns 
something of a sportsman, and had heard of some game 
among the neighboin-ing hills. We met him just sallying 
forth from his house, and, I must confess, his appearance was 
picturesque. He was a short, broad, sturdy little man, and 
had doffed his cassock rnd broad clerical beaver for a short 
jacket and a little round Andalusian hat; he had liis gun im 
hand, and waa on Iho point of mounting a donkey which had 
boeii lo'l forth by an ancient withered handmaid. JbVarful of 



APPENDIX. 223 

being detained from his foray, he accosted my comj^anion the 
moment he came in sight. "God preserve you, Senor Don 
Jutin! I have received your message, and have but one 
answer to make. The archives have all been destroyed. We 
have no trace of any thing you seek for— nothing— nothing- 
Don Rafael has the keys of the church. You can examine it 
at your leisure. — Adios, caballero!" With these vrords the 
galliard little cirrate mounted his donkey, thumped his ribs 
with the butt end of his gim, and trotted off to the hills. 

In our way to the church Ave passed by the ruins of what 
had once been a fair and spacious dwelling, greatly superior 
to the other houses of the village. This, Don Juan informed 
me, was an old family j^ossession, but since they had removed 
from Palos it had fallen to decay for want of a tenant. It was 
probably the family residence of Martin Alonzo or Vicente 
Yaiiez Pinzon, iu the time of Columbus. 

We now arrived at the church of St. George, in the porch of 
which Colmnbus first proclaimed to the inhabitants of Palos 
the order of the sovereigns, that they should furnish him with 
ships for his great voyage of discovery. This edifice has 
lately been thorouglily repaired, and, being of solid nason- 
work, promises to stand for ages, a monument of the discover- 
ers. It stands outside of the village, on the brow of a hill, 
looking along a little vaUey toward the river. The remains of 
a Moorish arch prove it to have been a mosque in former 
times ; just above it, on the crest of the hill, is the ruin of a 
Moorish castle. 

I paused in the porch and endeavoured to recall the 
interesting scene that had taken place there, when Columbus, 
accompanied by the zealous friar, Juan Perez, caused the 
public notary to read the royal order in presence of the 
astonished alcaldes, regidors, and alguazils; but it is difficult 
to conceive the consternation that must have been struck into 
so remote a httle community, by this sudden apparition of ac 
entire stranger among them, bearing a command that they 
should put their persons and ships at his disposal, and sail 
with him away into the unknown wilderness of the ocean. 

The interior of the church has nothing remarkable, except- 
ing a wooden image of St. George vanquishing the Drr-gon, 
which is erected over the high altar, and is the admiration of 
the good i)eople of Palos, who bear it about the streets in 
grand procession on the anniversary of the saint. This group, 
existed in the time of Columbus, and uow flourishes bi 



^v^4 SPAM SI I VOYAGES OF DISCO VKRY. 

renovated youth and splendour, haAang been newly p^Aited 
and g:ilded, and the countenance of the saint rendered pecti- 
iiai'ly lilooming and lustrous. ^- 

Having finished the examination of the church, we resuTnoti 
our seats in the calosa and returned to Moguer. One thing 
only remained to fulfil the object of my pilgrimage. I'his was 
to x-i&it the chapel of the Convent of Santa Clara. Whrr 
C'o'umhus was in danger of being lost in a tempest on his way 
home (rom his gi^eat voyage of discovery, he made a vow, 
that shtudd he be spared, he would watch and pray one whoie 
night iTi this chapel; a vow which he doubtless fulfilled 
immediately after his arrival. 

My kind and attentive friend, Don Juan, conducted me to 
the convei' c. It is the wealthiest in Moguer, and belongs to a 
isisterhooa of Franciscan nuns. The chapel is large, and 
ornamenteu with some degree of richness, particularly the 
)art about lt:c high altar, which is embellished by magnificent 
monuments at; the brave family of the Puerto Carreros, the 
ancienTi lords Mf Moguer, and renowned in Moorish warfare. 
Tlie alabaster effigies of distinguished warriors of that house, 
and of their \vives and sisters, lie side by side, with folded 
hands, on tom^^s immediately before the altar, while others 
recline in deep inches on either side. The night had closed in 
by the time I euttu-ed the church, which made the scene more 
impressive. A t( w votive lamps shed a dim light about the 
interior ; their bei7ms were feebly reflected by the gilded work 
of the high altar, .••,tid the frames of the surrounding paintings, 
and rested upon the marble figures of the warriors and dames 
lying in the moi/umental repose of ages. The solemn pile 
must have proseii'ed much the same appearance when the 
pious discoverer performed his vigil, kneeling before this very 
altar, and praying and watching throughout the night, and 
poui-ing forth heart-felt praises for having been spared to ac- 
complish his sublime discovery. 

I had now completed the main purpose of my joimiey, 
havin;? visited the various places connected with the story of 
Columbus. It was highly gratifying to find some of them so 
little changed, though so great a space of time had intervened ; 
but in this quiet nook of Spain, so far removed from the main 
tJioroughfares, the lapse of time produces but few violent 
revolutions. Nothing, however, had surprised and gratified 
me more than the continued stability of the Pinzon family. 
On the morning after my excursion to Palos, chance gave m^ 



APPENDIX. 225 

an opportunity of seeing something of the interior of most of 
their houfjeholds. Having a curiosity to visit the remains of a 
Moorish castle, once the citadel of Moguer, Don Fernandez 
undertook to show me a tower which served as a magazine of 
wine to one of the Pinzon family. In seeking for the key we 
were sent from house to house of nearly the whole connoxioH. 
All appeared to be hving in that golden mean equally removed 
from the wants and superfluities of life, and all to bo happily 
mterwoven by kind and cordial habits of intimacy. Wo 
found the females of the family generally seated in the patios, 
or central courts of theii* dwelhngs, beneath the shade of 
awnings and among shrubs and flowers. Here the Andalusian 
ladies are accustomed to pass their mornings at work, sur- 
rounded by their handmaids, in the primitive, or rather, 
oriental style. In the porches of some of the houses I ob- 
served the coat of arms, granted to the family by Charles V. , 
hung up hke a picture in a frame. Over the door of Don Luis, 
the naval oiScer, it was carved on an escutcheon of stone, and 
coloured. I had gathered many particulars of the family also 
from conversation with Don Juan, and from the family legend 
lent me by Don Luis. From all that I could learn, it would 
appear that the lapse of nearly three centuries and a half has 
made but little change in the condition of the Pinzons. From 
generation to generation they have retained the same fair 
standing tind reputable name throughout the neighbourhood, 
filling offices of public trust and dignity, and possessing great 
influence over their fellow-citizens by their good sense and 
gcci conduct. How rare is it to see such an instance of 
stability of fortune in this fluctuating world, and how truly 
honourable is this hereditary respectability, wliich has been 
secured by no titles or entails, but perpetuated merely by the 
iimatc worth of the race! I declare to you that the most 
illustrious descents of mere titled rank could never command the 
sincere respect and cordial regard with which I contemplated 
this staunch and enduring family, which for thi-ee centuries 
and a haK has stood merely upon its virtues. 

As I was to set off on my return to Seville before two 
o'clock, I partook of a farewell repast at the house of Don 
Juan, between twelve and one, and then took leave of his 
household with sincere regi-et. The good old gentleman, with 
the coui'tesy, or rather the cordiahty of a true Spaniard, 
accompanied me to the posada to see me off. I had dispensed 
but little mone,y in the posada — thanks to the hospitality of 



296 SPANJSn VOYAGES OF DISCOVER! 

the Pinzons— yet the Spanish pride of my host and hastoM 
seemed pleased that I had preferred their humble chamber, 
and the scanty bed they had provided me, to the spacious 
mansion of Don Juan ; and when I expressed my thanks for 
their kindness and attention, and regaled mine host with a 
few choice cigars, the heart of the poor man was overcome. 
He seized me by both hands and gave me a parting bene- 
liiction, and then ran after the calasero to enjoin him to take 
particular care of me during my journey. 

Taking a hearty leave of my excellent friend Don Juan, who 
had been unremitting in his attentions to me to the last 
moment, I now set off on my wayfaring, gratified to tbe 
utmost with my visit, and full of kind and grateful feelings 
towards Moguer and its hospitable inhabitants. 



MANIFESTO OF ALONZO DE OJEDA. 

[The following: curious formula, composed ty learned divines in Spain, was firs* 
read aloud by the friars in the train of Alonzo de Ojeda as a prelude to his 
attack on the savages of Cartliagena; and was subsequently adopted by the 
Spanish discoverers in general, in their invasions of the Indian countries.] 

I, Alonzo de Ojeda, servant of the high and mighty kings 
of Castile and Leon, civilizers of barbarous nations, their 
messenger and captain, notify and make known to you, in the 
best way I can, that God our Lord, one and eternal, created 
the heavens and the eartli, and one man and one woman, from 
whom you, and we, and all the people of the earth were and 
are descendants, procreated, and all those who shall come 
after us; but the vast number of generations which have 
proceeded from them, in the course of more than five thous- 
and years that have elapsed since the creation of the world, 
made it necessary that some of the human I'ace should disperse 
in one direction and some in another, and that they should 
tii-vide themselves into many kingdoms and provinces, as they 
coidd not sustain and preserve themselves in one alone. All 
these people Avere given in charge, by God our Lord, to one 
person, named St. Peter, who was thus made lord and 
superior of all the people of the earth, and head of the whole 
human lineage, whom all slumld obey, wherever they might 
live, and whatever might be their law, sect or belief ; he gave 



ArPK^'DIX. 227 

hioi aJeo the whole world for his service and jurisdiction, and 
tlKiugh he desired that he should establish his chair in Rome, 
as ,a place most convenient for governing the world, yet he 
permitted that he niight establish his chair in any other part 
©f the. world, and judge and govern all the nations, Christians, 
Moors, Jews, Gentiles, and whatever other sect or behef might 
be. This person was denominated Pope, that is to say, 
admirable, supreme, father and guardian, because he is father 
and governor of all mankind. This holy father was obeyed 
and honoured as lord, king, and superior of the universe by 
those who hved in his time, and, in like manner, have been 
obeyed and honoured by all those who have been elected to 
the Pontificate, and thus it has continued unto the present 
day, and will continue until the end of the world. 

One of these Pontiffs of whom I have spoken, as lord of the 
world, made a donation of these islands and continents, of the 
ocean, sea, and all that they contain, to the Catholic kings of 
yabtile, who at that time were Ferdinand and Isabella of 
.glorious meiuory, and to their successors, our sovereigns, 
according to the tenor o". certain papers drawn up for the 
purpose, (which you may s?e if you desire.) Thus his majesty 
is king and sovereign of these islands and continents by virtue 
of the said donation; and as king and sovereign, certain 
islands, and almost all to whom this has been notified, have 
received his majesty, and have obeyed and served and do 
actually serve him. And, moreover, like good subjects, and 
with good-will, and without any rcsistence or delay, the 
moment they were informed of the foregoing, they obeyed all 
the religious men sent among them to preach and teach our 
Holy I'aith ; and these of their free and cheerful will, without 
f>ny condition or rev/ard, became Christians, and continue so 
to be. And his majesty received them kindly and bcnig- 
iiantly, and ordered that they should be treated like his other 
subjects and vassals : you also are required and obliged to do 
the same. Therefore, in the best manner I can, I pray and 
entreat you, that you consider well what I have said, and that 
you take whatever time is reasonable to understand and 
deliberate upon it, and that you recognise the church for 
sovereign and superior of the universal world, and the 
supreme Pontitt, called Pope, in her name, and his majesty in 
his place, as superior and sovereign Iring of the islands aiid 
Terra, Finna, by virtue of the said donation; and that you 
consent that these religious lathers declare and preach to you 



228 ISFANLSJI VOYAV/i'S OF DISCOVERY. 

the forogoing ; and if you shall so do, you will do well ; and 
will do that to which you arc bounden and obhgcd ; and his 
majesty, and I in his name, will receive you witl all due love 
and charity, and will leave you, your wives and children, free 
from servitude, that you may fi'eely do with these foid with 
yourselves Avhatever you please, and think proper, as have 
done the inhabitants of the other islands. And besides this, 
hin majesty will give you many privileges and exemptions, 
and grant you many favours. If you do not do this, or 
wickedly and intentionally delay to do so, I certify to you, 
that by the aid of God, I will powerfully invade and make 
war upon you in all parts and modes that I can, and will 
subdue you to the yoke and obedience of the church and of 
his majesty, and I will take your wives and cliildren and 
make slaves of them, and sell them as such, and dispose of 
them as his majesty may command; and I will take jour 
effects and will do you all the harm and injury in my power, 
as vassals who will not obey or receive their sovereign and 
who resist and oppose him. And I protest that the deaths and 
disasters which may in this manner be occasioned, will be the 
fault of yourselves and not of his majesty, nor of me, nor of 
these cavaliers who accompany me. And of what I here tell 
you and require of you, I call upon the notary here present to 
give me his signed testimonial. 



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